


Violence In Its Many Forms

by ZenyZootSuit



Series: Kingdom As I See It [1]
Category: Kingdom Netflix, 킹덤 | Kingdom (TV 2019)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Chapters 1 and 2 are season 2 spoiler free, Character Study, Comic Relief, Eventual Romance, First Time, Gratuitous Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Internal Monologue, M/M, POV Alternating, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rough Sex, Slow Burn, Survivor Guilt, The Author Regrets Nothing, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:01:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 92,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23222188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZenyZootSuit/pseuds/ZenyZootSuit
Summary: A discussion of trauma, treason, and a silver lining or two
Relationships: Prince Lee Chang/Yeong-shin
Series: Kingdom As I See It [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1740082
Comments: 160
Kudos: 261





	1. Of Trauma and Treason

**Author's Note:**

> I conceived the idea for this after working a night shift at the hospital and getting splashed in the eye with liver juice. As such, you can imagine how completely and utterly self-indulgent this is. 
> 
> Fun fact: this contains an actual trick my martial arts master has used on me to counter panic attacks and asthma. It actually works. That said, all characters responses to trauma are based off my own experiences and reactions to trauma because my new favorite hobby is projecting onto my favorite characters.
> 
> Yeah so this was supposed to be short sweet and smutty, but it turned into something else entirely. As per usual, my one shot turned into a multi-chaptered fic. If you're not familiar with my work, I like to make them as close to canon as possible, and ending up using a lot of original dialogue. As such, any dialogue that can be attributed to the show is not mine and I do not claim it as such. I did try to make this culturally and historically accurate.
> 
> Chapters 1 and 2 were written in August 2019, edited and published before I watched season 2. As such they are spoiler free. Kindly don’t spoil any of season 2 for me before I post chapter 3, which I will write after I watch it. This is probably the only show I care about spoilers for.
> 
> Kudos if you catch all the references. Enjoy! Do mind the tags, I can be pretty brutal
> 
> One last thing: the plural of Cho is written as Cho's because Chos just looked wrong to me, so it is intentional

*******

 _Stay alive_ , his father had told him.

 _Protect yourself_ , Lord Ahn-Hyeon had said...

The first time Chang understood that a great many people meant to depose and kill him for their own gain, he was six years old.

It had been at his late mother’s funeral of all places. Already the worst day of his very short life, Chang had heard the whisperings of some of the old philosophers. Whispers of Kings and succession…and replacing him with a legitimate heir. He hadn’t known what most of those words meant at the time, but when all of their eyes lifted to him, he had figured it out rather quickly. He had also quickly figured out that when they said replace, they meant kill.

As one might expect, such knowledge at such a young age had taken its toll and despite the support he received from Lord Ahn-Hyeon, that perpetual feeling of mistrust had never left him in all his years.

He hadn’t felt safe in two and a half decades.

But Chang adapted well enough to the constant stress of imminent death, managing to keep his blatant mistrust of everyone alive hidden and acted like the perfect prince he was supposed to be. He was polite to all he interacted with, showed respect and difference to his father, and took his duties as the Crown Prince as seriously as one could. Because he was the Crown Prince, after all. And while he was not the type of royal to shove it in the face of those of lower status, he was loathe to let anyone forget it.

Lest they depose him for it.

All in all, he was fine. Perfectly well adjusted and, so long as he had Lord Ahn-Hyeon and the liberal scholars on his side, not at too much of a risk of sudden mysterious death.

Then Lord Ahn-Hyeon’s mother died and the man went home to Sangju, leaving Chang alone in Hanyang.

He did not remember much of the day Lord-Ahn Hyeon had left, only that he had expressed his heartfelt sympathies and wished him a safe journey, shivers running down his spine all the while.

Chang was…concerned about his safety in the Lord’s absence, sure. But, he reasoned one night, fingers drumming nervously on the wood of his desk, it wasn’t as if all the other scholars who supported him and his claim to the throne had left, too.

He would be fine….he would.

Still, without Lord Ahn-Hyeon he began to crumble around the edges, his emotions stronger than they had ever been before and increasingly volatile. For example: he had never considered himself to be an impatient person. His servants had thanked him more than once for being so understanding if they were running a bit behind or got something wrong (they were under a lot of stress— he could relate).

But after Lord Ahn-Hyeon left, just the mild annoyance of tying a knot too tight left him feeling like he could fly into a rage at any moment. Even not being able to find a certain text he was looking for left him misty eyed and trembling with frustration. Everyone around him— even his favorite guard, Mu-yeong— made him unreasonably irritated. He stopped sleeping well (not that he had ever slept particularly well), and threw what Mu-yeong would amusedly describe as tantrums when he never had before, even as a small child.

(He had spent the better part of the past ten years trying to get people to stop treating him like a child, to take him seriously like they should the heir to the throne. If word got out of his recent unsteadiness, he would be in trouble. A lot of trouble.)

He kept a lid on these new developments as much as was humanly possible and was fairly successful too. Mu-yeong had thus far been the only one to witness his episodes. He supposed some of the servants were likely suspicious, as if he accidentally (or on occasion, not so accidentally) broke something, they were the ones who saw the evidence.

He was incredibly ashamed of it all because this wasn’t him and he knew that. It had never been him and he couldn’t understand what was wrong with him or what had changed so drastically as to leave him like this. 

But whatever it was, it was getting worse.

One day he had been sitting in the garden, completely alone except for Mu-yeong, doing absolutely nothing besides stare at the leaves falling into the pond when suddenly he couldn’t breathe. At first he thought it was a fluke, like he had bent over too far or something. But when he straightened his back, he breathed no easier. He grasped at his chest with increasing desperation (as if that would help him), but with each inhale his breath came in terrible rattles that left him feeling more out of breath with each passing one.

 _By the ancestors_ , his mind panicked. _I’m dying._

Mu-yeong shouted for a physician, shushing Chang in between yells, telling him to try and keep calm, a hand on his chest to keep him from collapsing forward. What could a physician do for him now?

_He’d been poisoned, he knew it. He’d been poisoned and those bastards who’d been after him his whole life had finally succeeded in deposing and murdering him. He was going to die like this, he was sure of it—_

Then suddenly, he could breathe again. Just like that. And he was abruptly aware of the tears pouring down his face as he drew in gulp after gulp of air. Slowly, he also became aware that he was leaning back against someone’s chest as someone else dug their thumbs into the muscle right underneath his collarbones.

“Deep breaths,” soothed a voice. A court physician, he realized after a brief moment. He also realized that half the medical staff was present as well, along with at least a third of the palace guards.

Lung function restored, he leaned away from the person who’d been holding him up (Mu-yeong, as it happened) and scrubbed the tears off his face with his sleeves, mortified at his weakness.

The physician (Lee Seung-hui, as it turned out) regarded him curiously before bidding the others leave (except Mu-yeong, who stood a few paces away, glancing over every now and again with a worried look on his face).

“Has that ever happened to you before?” the physician asked Chang as they were both standing at the edge of the pond, looking out over it.

“No,” he replied, eyes fixed on the water. After a moment, he added, “I thought I’d been poisoned.”

“Not uncommon.”

Chang looked at him. “You know what ails me?”

The physician shook his head. “Nothing I will put a name to,” he said and prescribed acupuncture and more time sitting in the garden.

It turned out that he very much did put a name to what had occurred, Chang later learned when he swiped his medical journal at shift change that night, suspicious of the physician’s silence. Chang’s suspicion was well placed, as the physician had put a very nasty, rude name to it. Chang ripped the page out and burned it before going back to his rooms and informing Mu-yeong never to call a physician on his behalf again, even if he was literally dying on the floor.

Mu-yeong had been too stunned to utter more than a few garbled concerns before Chang had walked away. It wouldn’t matter if he were dying, Chang thought bitterly, because it was clear that physician was not on his side.

Pinning language like he had to the Crown Prince would get Chang deposed and killed anyway, so if he was already dying of something then let him die in peace.

But he didn’t tell Mu-yeong that. A quick few words to some of the scholars had the physician more or less run out of town the next day (officially, Physician Lee had “resigned”. Chang hadn’t wanted to do it, but his life was on the line. Not even Lord Ahn-Hyeon could save him if he was labeled insane.)

He often wondered bitterly why his father never used the same iron fist to protect him that Lord Cho Hak-ju used to do everything he did. Perhaps he secretly did want a legitimate child. (It was never even that Chang wanted power for power’s sake. He was not the Haewon Cho Clan. No, he just wanted to live. Live and to be different from them.)

If one thing was for certain, he increasingly despised his father’s new wife.

She was little more than half his age and yet she treated him as if he were completely incompetent. At first he had pitied her, wondering how pleasant an arranged marriage and a position with a great deal of expectations and responsibilities really was. Many would say she should be grateful to be Queen, but Chang wasn’t so sure. It was obvious she was just a pawn in her father’s game.

So tried his damndest to be patient with her, set out to advocate for her in any way that he could, so she didn’t have to feel like making Chang’s life miserable was the only way to keep some small portion of her autonomy. 

That was until he caught wind of the Haewon Cho Clan’s plan.

When the queen fell pregnant (with a son! the midwife had joyfully declared. Chang pled a headache and left), the young scholars Chang surrounded himself with began to whisper of how convenient it would be for the queen to bear a son only to have Chang’s father tragically die, leaving control of the kingdom in Lord Cho Hak-ju’s _capable_ hands. With Chang, of course, deposed and quite dead.

The scholars had told him of their concerns in shaking voices, fearing the wrath of the Crown Prince for speaking ill of the senior advisors, but Chang was hardly one to shoot the messenger. No, he simply laughed bitterly and rubbed his temples, exhausted.

The Haewon Cho Clan was plotting to kill him. Tell him something new from the past thirty years.

When his father conveniently fell ill with “smallpox” and Chang was forbidden from seeing him, was it any wonder he conspired treason?

 _Stay alive_ , his father had said. Despite everything and even though he didn’t fully trust him, Chang adored his father and had never wanted him dead. He was, after all, his father.

Chang hoped his father would understand why he had done what he had done.

Days passed and Chang began to worry that the scholar’s fears were true and that he was actually on death’s door. And because he was his father, Chang _had_ to see him, no matter the risk of infection or retaliation. Chang was his son, after all. Filial piety commanded it, and Chang owed it to him, hoped he could find some way to save him.

Or maybe he just felt guilty.

So he knelt outside of the Queen’s quarters, waiting to beg her (oh how bitter that tasted in his tongue, to be reduced to begging her of all people, but for his father he would do it) to see his ailing father, and she had the nerve to scold him for it and lecture him on how oh she was so pregnant she couldn’t move, as the most senior member of the family (that one still grated on his nerves, she was barely more than a girl) she couldn’t possibly allow him to risk catching smallpox.

“So please leave.”

Chang grit his teeth and swallowed his fury. The Haewon Cho Clan would be overjoyed if Chang were to die without them having to lift a finger. What did they care if he caught smallpox?

Which brings him to the matter of an entirely different set of rumors.

After the King had been rumored severely ill for a number of days, the scholars had begun to speak in hushed voices of devious plots and lies, of the fear that the King had already died and that the Cho’s were forbidding him be seen to stall until the Queen gave birth to her son, effectively dethroning Chang.

The convenience of it all was too much, which was the other reason Chang had come here.

“Then tell me this,” he asked, bitterness roughening his voice. “Is my father truly alive?”

In hindsight, perhaps it hadn’t been the best move to outwardly display his suspicion, but what’s done is done.

The queen turned back to stare down at him. “You may have learned difference to your father, but not to your mother.”

Chang’s blood ran cold at the evasion.

“How could you be so disobedient to me in front of servants? Do you hate me that much? Or is that hatred more towards your unborn sibling?”

Chang deflated. The scholars had been right, hadn’t they? And to think he had ever set out to protect her.

“If that is not the case, please head back.” And she bid her servants take him.

The pouring rain matched his mood well as he watched the queen walk away.

He felt as if he had a three ton stone in the pit of his stomach as he walked back to his section of the palace, soaking wet, mind racing. So it was true. What the scholars had feared, it was all true. And that meant… Chang couldn’t bear to dwell on it.

_No, my father is alive. He is alive until proven dead._

He had to see him. He had to know if was alive or dead, and if he was alive, he had to see what was wrong, if he really had contracted smallpox. If he hadn’t…he couldn’t bear to think of what they were doing to him. He had to help him somehow. At least he had to try.

Chang stopped dead in his tracks. “I must see my father,” he stated firmly, and changed his course.

Only to be blocked by a crowd of eight servants.

“Has Your Highness forgotten? The Queen has forbidden you!”

“Step aside.”

Heads bowed, none of them moved a muscle.

“I said step aside!” he bellowed.

The servants knelt down and begged him to be understanding.

Chang shivered, and not just from the cold. “Whom do you serve? Whom do you consider to be the King of this nation?! Is it my father or the Haewon Cho Clan?! Is there anyone in the palace who does not take orders from them?”

“PLEASE BE UNDERSTANDING!” they all begged again.

Well, he had his answer, didn’t he. His head spun as he continued along his original path.

If he acted like a little bit of an asshole back in his wing of the palace, dropping his wet robes on the floor without care, then the servants would just have to forgive him.

“Call Mu-yeong!” he commanded sharply. In his entire life, he had only ever come close to trusting two people. One was Lord Ahn-Hyeon, who had taught him how to look after himself and had wholeheartedly supported his claim to the throne (and therefore his continued existence). The other was Mu-yeong.

(His father had never lifted a finger to protect him from the Haewon Cho Clan, or had his hands been truly bound by them, never even offered a word of support. Chang loved his father, but he couldn’t say he trusted him).

He sat down heavily amidst his scrolls and books, breath beginning to rattle in his chest as the full meaning of what had just taken place began to sink in. He briefly wished he had waited to summon Mu-yeong, preferring to be alone when these attacks hit him, but the mission he had for him was more important than cushioning his pride. Besides, Mu-yeong had never spoken a word of what he’d seen. He was loyal (he was the only one.)

The truth was that Mu-yeong had seen two of these attacks.

About a month after the first one, Chang had woken from a dead sleep completely unable to breathe. Not even with a rattle. He had sat there, throat slammed shut, hands grasping uselessly at his chest. Thankfully he must have knocked something over in his panicked struggle with his own body, because Mu-yeong cracked open the door to see if he was in need of assistance.

When he saw the prince in the state he was in, he bolted inside. But he remembered to shut the door behind him.

“Breathe, Your Highness, breathe. It’s okay.”

Chang stared at him, eyes wide with terror, reflexive tears pouring down his face as he collapsed forward with the force of trying to inhale.

“Sit up, sit up,” Mu-yeong said calmly (though Chang could hear the underlying panic in his voice), and gently rested one hand on the prince’s shoulder to hold him up and the other on his ribcage, rubbing gently. “It’s okay.”

Chang held tightly to one of Mu-yeong’s wrists as he managed a tiny inhale punctuated with a terrible rattle. He was grateful even for that.

“That’s it,” Mu-Yeong soothed. “Just breathe, it’s okay.”

With each passing breath, the rattle grew louder as Chang was able to inhale more and more. At the first full breath he drew, Chang let go of Mu-yeong’s wrist and rested both hands on the floor for extra support, savoring the clear air and quickly gasping for more.

“Slowly, Your Highness,” Mu-yeong chided, tentatively rubbing his back. As much as he would normally spurn anything that could make him look weak, Chang appreciated the comfort.

Mu-yeong stayed where he was for a while, a hand on Chang’s shoulder while he calmed down.

With his breath evening out, Chang was once again suddenly aware of the complete and utter mess he was.

Shame flooded through him as he turned away to scrub his face clean.

Mu-yeong stood to bow and then sunk to a kneel. He rested his hands properly on the tops of his thighs, eyes fixed on the floor by the prince’s feet and began slowly. “I wish Your Highness would tell me what distresses you so...so that I may assist.”

Chang rubbed his eyes, more ashamed than ever. He wished there was an answer to that.

He laid back down and pulled the sheets over his head, listening as Mu-yeong sighed before rising and leaving him in peace. He was certain news of his madness would be all of Hanyang by morning and he would be deposed by nightfall. And dead by the following morning. Might as well sleep well, then.

He did not sleep at all.

He was also stunned to find the next morning, as he rose exhausted, irritable and looking like he’d been in a fistfight and lost, that news of what had occurred was not all over Hanyang.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone about what you saw last night?” he asked later as they rode out into the fields.

Mu-yeong frowned at him. “Because Your Highness indicated that I was not to call the court physician under any circumstances.”

“That’s not what I meant. You and I both know that you know there are a good many people who would pay you a lot of money for information like that. Why didn’t you tell them?”

Mu-yeong looked aghast. “Because it concerns _you_ , Your Highness, and I would never reveal such information for any price.” His expression faded to look quite sad. “Did Your Highness think I would?”

Flooded with shame (it was quickly becoming a permanent state), Chang shook his head. How could he have doubted him?

Mu-yeong pressed him no further, instead pulling his horse up to stop. “We should head back. Your Highness is exhausted. You need to rest.”

Chang ignored him and galloped further out into the field, sick of being treated and controlled like a child and far too tired to sleep.

After the first two had so embarrassingly crippled him, Chang had gotten good at recognizing and preventing them. Or if he couldn’t do that, then he learned how to hide them or channel them into an outburst of anger, which was slightly more acceptable.

Which was why —when Mu-yeong entered, bowed, and greeted him, he threw a proper fit to hide the increasingly sharp wheezing in his throat. Swept the neat pile of scrolls clean off his desk before flipping it and throwing an ink-well somewhere to the left of Mu-yeong’s shoulder.

The guard, completely unfazed, caught it effortlessly and frowned, visibly disappointed.

Chang shut his eyes, breathing heavily. At least his breath was clearer.

“Why would you throw something worth more than my year’s salary?” Mu-yeong scolded as he rightened the desk and delicately replaced the ink-well. Chang wanted to cry, but he never allowed himself to do that. He didn’t even cry during his attacks anymore. To cry would mean showing unnecessary weakness, and he couldn’t afford to do that. “If a tantrum is what you wanted to throw, you should have aimed it at the Queen.”

“The greatest virtue a Crown Prince must pursue is filial piety,” Chang recited sullenly as his head continued to clear in the presence of his friend. “I cannot ignore it and risk being deposed. The wench may barely be of age, but she is my _mother_ nonetheless.”

Oh, how he seethed to admit it.

“I see,” Mu-yeong murmured, replacing his books. “Your Highness is a truly devoted son.”

Speaking of which. “I have a job for you.”

Mu-yeong looked up at him, expression blank, and stood. “Is it to go to the King’s palace and see His Majesty?”

Chang stared back, expression equally blank. Mu-yeong knew him too well. “Bring me the journal kept at the royal infirmary.”

“The palace guards keep an eye on the journal day and night. How can I possibly obtain it?”

Well, if he wouldn’t agree to it outright, then Chang had been saving a nice long list of… _persuasive material_ just for this purpose. “Pears from Naju, pomegranates from Gochang, and the ginger sweets prepared with care by the royal kitchen,” he tsked. “Did you forget all that you stole from me?”

“ _Your Highness!”_

“Think of your wife,” Chang went on dramatically, “who supported you until you finally passed the state examination at the age of forty.” He tried very hard to sound serious while he was saying. It was very difficult, given how much he was enjoying the flabbergasted look on Mu-yeong’s face.“You stole from my dessert table in order to bring them to your kind wife, who finally got pregnant after ten years of marriage, did you not?” He quirked an eyebrow comically.

If he was going to blackmail his friend, at least he was going to have fun doing it.

“Your Highness, you know a lot of my situation,” Mu-yeong said, exasperated. “How long have you been planning to use this against me?”

Chang’s frozen heart warmed just a bit as he put on his most innocent face and looked of into the distance to continue his spiel. (No matter what he did, Mu-yeong was never truly angry with him. Not that a guard could be outwardly angry with the Crown Prince, but the extent of his patience was not lost on Chang).

“If they find out you stole from my dessert table, you will be fired.”

“As I will if I get caught stealing the journal,” the guard shot back, a bit miffed.

“I see,” Chang murmured, leaning against the desk nonchalantly and staring out the window. “I hear tonight’s table will have beef pancakes.” Now that got the guard’s attention. Chang fought back a smile. “But I guess I cannot force you...”

Except that he definitely could, but that wasn’t what he was trying to do here.

Mu-yeong sighed heavily. “If I sneak in before sunrise at the shift change I _might_ be able to get the journal.”

Chang nodded, feeling triumphant, and shot his friend a quick smile. In the meantime, with his personal guard gone, he had his own little errand to run during shift change.

*******

It was easier than he expected to sneak into the King’s palace (which was definitely an issue he was going to raise with the guards after he got this mess sorted out).

It had been a while since he had been in here, he mused as he crept through the empty hallways towards his father’s rooms.

He hoped, if his father were indeed still alive and gravely ill, that he would not frighten him too much.

Two servants approaching sent him into a dark hallway as he waited for them to pass. He watched one man walk past, only for his heart to skip a beat at what he overheard him say.

“His Majesty went missing?”

“Forgive me,” whispered another. “I only stepped away for a moment.”

“If you wish to live, you must find him!”

 _Missing?_ Chang thought, heart rate picking up. _Missing as in…kidnapped? And by who? The Haewon Cho Clan, if anyone of course..._

He continued along the palace halls. If his father had indeed been kidnapped, then he needed to figure out who had done it. He could hardly trust the palace staff to do an honest job, could he?

A scratching coming from behind him broke him out of his thoughts. Someone was coming.

He debated briefly. He could make a mad dash for his father’s quarters to avoid whoever was coming. It was not far. Then again, his quarters would likely be swarming with staff if he truly had been taken. Likely still if he hadn’t, if only to keep their secret. He couldn’t jeopardize his mission with haste.

So he slipped into a side room and stepped back to avoid his shadow being spotted in the torchlight.

But what approached in the light was decidedly not a guard or a servant. That much was obvious by any one of the thing’s characteristics. The stench (Chang nearly retched at the smell of rot), the silhouette, the movement, the sound, he had never seen or read about anything like it.

It was truly…. _monstrous_.

And it seemed to know he was there.

He snatched a metal rod from the corner, holding it up defensively and side stepping quickly to remain in the thing’s shadow. Hopefully so it couldn’t see his.

Still, the thing’s shadow crept closer to the door. Chang tightened his grip on the rod, heart racing, and was preparing himself for a fight when the lights were suddenly extinguished. He froze, listening, and when he heard nothing, he cracked open the doors to peak through.

Only to be caught red-handed by none other than Commander Cho Beom-Il.

“What are you doing here, Your Highness?” the man snapped, dislike plain on his face.

The feeling was mutual, but Chang was so grateful that it wasn’t…whatever that thing was, that he couldn’t even be (too) angry he had been caught.

“There was…something monstrous in the hallway…” he said, not having to even fake the residual terror as his heart pounded so hard it made it difficult to breathe.

“Something monstrous?”

“It sounded like a beast,” he went on, ignoring Beom-Il’s nasty tone. “It smelled of blood and had a terrible stench; it was not human. It had the shape of a monster!” And it was walking around his father’s palace, which was Chang’s biggest concern.

“That cannot be true,” Beom-Il patronized. “A monster in the king’s palace? Your Highness must be wrong.”

Indeed, Chang had been wrong when he had implied there was only one monster, as he was looking at another one right now. How could he possibly have forgotten.

“You do not believe me?” But Beom-Il probably wouldn’t believe someone had a gun until they shot him with it. (Which may or may not have actually happened, much to Chang’s delight when he heard).

“You Highness must be weak from having knelt in contrition for days. Please return to your chambers and have a physician check up on you.”

Chang bit his tongue hard. “Perhaps I am tired from my time kneeling in contrition. Perhaps I did see wrong. Nevertheless, there is _someone_ in my father’s palace that is not supposed to be here and likely has ill intentions. Do you not think that might warrant a bit of _investigation_?”

“The only one who is not supposed to be here is you.”

Indeed, if the King was kidnapped and killed by an intruder, how convenient would that be for Beom-Il’s family? Chang detested him, truly he did.

The commander looked to one of his soldiers. “Have his Highness’s attendants escort him back.”

Chang wanted to scream. Scrambling to come up with an alternate plan, it was then that he noticed that the guards had neglected to remove their boots before entering the palace. How unforgivably rude.

 _Missing_ , the servants had said.

Chang looked back up at Beom-Il, who seemed freshly aware of his misstep. “Did you find my father?”

“Whatever do you mean?” One day, Chang would take great pleasure in removing his head. “His Majesty is…lying in his bed at this very moment.”

Horseshit. “He is lying in his bed? I shall simply check for myself and then I will leave you all in peace.” And he brushed past the guards to do it.

“Your Highness, please stop!”

Chang ignored him, striding on withpurpose. “Father, it is Chang,” he called down the hall

“Your Highness!”

“Open the door,” Chang ordered the chamber maids.

“No!” Beom-Il yelled from behind him.

“ _Open_ the door!” Chang ordered again, moving forward with renewed vigor until the metallic sound of a blade being drawn stopped him dead in his tracks.

The folded steel glinted in the corner of his eye as he stood, stunned at the depth of the corruption in the court.

“You dare draw your sword at me?” he nearly snarled.

“It is the Queen’s orders,” Beom-Il stated, but Chang heard the brief waver in his voice loud and clear. “I am only maintaining the laws of the palace!”

Because the laws of the palace were set by the Queen. Chang had somehow missed that over the past thirty years. He stared straight ahead, fury igniting his voice and the sheer exhaustion of three decades of living in fear granting him bravery. “Can a mere Commanding Officer shed the blood of the royal family? If he can, then strike me down.” And he continued forward, letting the metal graze his cheek as he did.

He flung open the doors and slowed to a stop. Because, unsurprisingly, his father was not actually in bed as Beom-Il had so unconvincingly said and the room was empty except for a single man kneeling on the floor. The seriousness of that was no laughing matter.

“Where is my father?” he demanded of the man. What had they done with him?

“Why?” a deep voice replied, one Chang had hated for nearly three decades. “Are you concerned about your father’s safety?”

_From the likes of you, yes._

“I am. I saw…a hideous monster inside the King’s palace.” Oh how he wanted to lay into Lord Cho. How he wanted to unravel his gruesome plan right then and there, because Chang had a good guess as to what it was. A tragic kidnapping of an ailing man followed by the birth of a son and the execution of a Crown Prince. Chang despised him, but he also feared him, loathe as he was to admit it. And surrounded by the Lord’s supporters, Chang hated how his voice wavered.

Lord Cho heard it, too, and took advantage of it. “I saw one as well. A son pretending to be concerned about his father while he secretly wishes for his father to die so he can secure power for himself.”

Chang shivered involuntarily, once again feeling like the six-year-old boy threatened with death, no one to protect him, as Lord Cho stared at him from an insincere bow with unfeeling eyes.

“That is the monster I saw. And I saw other monster,” Lord Cho continued, straightening. “Full of evil thoughts who intend to use that son to slay his Majesty and take over the nation. Those monsters’ blood is filling the courtyard of the Royal Investigation Bureau.”

Chang’s head swam. He knew what they had done. _Damn it all_ , he knew.

Their plan —his and the scholars—had been solid. How did he know?

Simple, the bastard had moles everywhere, something they had somehow overlooked. And now they would all die for it.

“Once that blood overflows, the leader of the conspiracy, the new king they wish to place on the throne, will be identified. And when that time comes, even a mere commander of the Royal Army may shed the blood of the Royal Family.”

It was odd, Chang observed absentmindedly as he stood there, frozen. He was a dead man walking, yet he had never felt so calm in his life. Perhaps it was the relief of the wait finally being over...

“Your Royal Highness may continue to wait, but His Majesty will not return. His illness subsided, so he went to the Queen’s palace.”

He hadn’t been willing to accept it at the time, and hadn’t fully understood it until much, much later, but it was at that moment that some small part of Chang understood that his father was dead. In the moment, Chang was completely numb, stuck wondering how exactly they had all ended up here. Wondering where it had all gone wrong.

“Beom-Il,” Lord Cho said firmly. “Escort His Royal Highness out.”

“Yes, father.”

Lord Cho bowed to him then. Chang wished he would spare him the pretense.

In the end, with one last look at his father’s empty bed, he followed without complaint.

Beom-Il had the nerve to taunt him as he stormed off.

“His Highness must have been startled,” he drawled, so full of himself it made Chang sick. “Bring him some medicine to calm his nerves.”

One day, Chang would see them all pay.

*******

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he heard Mu-yeong scramble into the room from where’d been standing at the window. The darkness of the miserable night had yet to fade, so it couldn’t have been too terribly long.

“Your Highness,” Mu-yeong panted, out of breath.

Chang turned away from the window. “Did you retrieve it?”

“Yes. I almost got caught,” he made a point to say, “But I managed to sneak it out.”

Chang shut the window.

As he read through the journal, another larger part of him began to accept that his father was dead. Chang was no physician, but he _could_ read and what the physicians wrote of was smallpox. Clear as day.

“There might not be a cure...”

_You are the King now._

Chang silenced the thought, the majority of him continuing to refuse to accept it. He was simply ill, so ill the physicians had neglected to make note of it...for several days...but his father was now miraculously recovered and well enough to visit the Queen...

Made perfect sense.

Mu-yeong was staring at him. Out of the corner of his eye, Chang could see the grief, sympathy, and something resembling awe on his friend’s face.

He was looking at him like he was looking at the King. But Chang was not the King.

He simply wasn’t.

Chang handed the journal back to Mu-yeong, feeling dizzy as he stepped away. “What is happening to my father in his own palace?”

“Your Highness?” Mu-yeong asked, not appearing to have heard him.“Who is Physician Lee Seung-hui?”

Chang frowned, turning back around. “He was a royal physician who resigned three years ago.” And the very same one who had attempted to label Chang a madman.

“His name is written on the last entry regarding his Majesty.”

Chang snatched the journal back, praying that Mu-yeong had his characters mixed up again. But he hadn’t.

Chang shut the damn thing and shook his head. Would they never be rid of these traitors? If Lee Seung-hui was involved, then Chang’s father was in danger. He had already proven well enough that he was on the side of the Cho’s. But if they had any chance of working this out (read: of living through this), then Chang had to figure out _how_ he was involved.

“I must go out in disguise.”

“In _disguise?_ ”

One day, if this were ever over, Chang was going to commission a painting be done of all of Mu-yeong’s astonished, dumbfounded, and flabbergasted expressions. About 99% of which were directed at Chang on a regular basis.

“You can’t! Who knows what the Queen will do to you—“

Chang looked over at him. He had no idea what expression was on his face at the time, but it worked well enough to shut his friend up. “The Queen said not to enter the King’s palace. She said nothing of leaving it. That’s also why it’s called a disguise, so no one knows it’s you.”

“Your Highness!”

“Prepare to leave. It will be just you and me.”

“But...what about…the beef pancakes?”

Chang sighed and turned to leave, fully planning on ignoring that comment, but just because it was so absurd, he turned back to see if Mu-yeong was actually serious. Mu-yeong shrunk back a tiny bit as he did, but Chang was too tired to judge his sincerity.

(Sometimes he wondered if Mu-yeong occasionally acted ridiculous on purpose, just to see if he could get Chang to smile. He was the only one that could.)

*******

Chang had…never been in a place like this before.

There was not a breath of fresh air to be had amongst the straw houses and the raw sewage. He watched as two young girls played in the filthy water as several others relieved themselves just upstream.

And the scholars wondered why disease was so rampant in the kingdom.

He fingered the soft fabric of his robes and looked around at the starving people. Who didn’t pay nearly enough taxes, according to the more conservative courtiers.

 _This isn’t right_.

He held up a handkerchief to his nose and mouth as the smell started to make him nauseous.

“Are you Park Jong-yeong? Of the Royal Infirmary?” Mu-yeong asked a man. Chang stared. The palace staff lived in places like _this?_...Did Mu-yeong as well?

“Yes, yes I am!” the man scurried forward and bowed deeply. “What brings the Crown Prince’s personal guard by?”

It turned out that the physician had already gone. And with him left the boy he had brought, severely ill.

“With smallpox?” Chang told Mu-yeong to ask.

The man shrugged. “A dullard like me does not know for sure, but it was not a disease. He had deep wounds all over his body. As if he had been attacked by a beast.”

The sun was hot on Chang’s back, but suddenly he felt so terribly cold.He remembered the horrid growling and hissing of whatever he had seen in the hallway of his father’s palace. He had been trying to convince himself it was a drunken guard or something.

…Or something.

_His father, gravely ill. There may be no cure. Empty pages. Your father is resting, too sick for you to see him. Couldn’t possibly have you infected. But he is well. Gone to see the Queen. The physician, already gone, with his assistant torn apart by a monster. A monster, in the palace halls. You may not see the King._

It just didn’t add up, did it.

 _You are the King now_.

But Chang was not the King. Not now. Not like this.

*******

He was dragging his feet as they headed back to Hanyang (and what awaited him there).The sway of the horse under him cleared his head a bit as he considered the mounting inconsistencies in the mystery of what had happened to the King. The guard had provided insight into the Cho plot, but no definitive proof. As such, it was useless to him.

_Was it though?_

He looked off to the south, to Dongnae. And further answers. And relative safety. He pulled his horse to a stop.

“Your Highness,” Mu-yeong urged with thinning patience. “We will be caught at this rate. We must hurry back!”

“That way is south,” Chang murmured, looking off over the frosty hills. “Dongnae must be that way...”

He knew what would happen to him the minute he set foot back into Hanyang. He would be arrested, tortured, and killed, along with the rest of the young scholars. There was only one thing that could save them now.

“I need to know what has happened to my father.”

“What do you mean?”

“I must go to Dongnae.”

The strength of Mu-yeong’s dismay surprised him, though it probably shouldn’t have.

“To Dongnae?” Mu-yeong looked south and back at him. “Now?! Without eunuchs or court ladies to serve you?”

Chang cracked a smile. Mu-yeong knew well enough that Chang was oddly independent for a royal and rarely had much for the court ladies and eunuchs to do back at the palace. Even so, he always put up such a fuss when Chang would do things by himself.

The reality of his independence was that Chang didn’t trust anyone at the palace save his friend as far as he could spit, so he preferred to do things himself. But Mu-yeong hadn’t ever needed to know that.

“You and I alone?!” Mu-yeong continued, scandalized. “We cannot!”

“I will go,” Chang stated firmly.

“Do you know how far it is from Hanyang to Dongnae? You almost vomited several times on the way to here from the palace because of the stench.” Chang stiffened in his saddle, feeling like a chastened child, and a weak one at that. So what, he would get used to it. “How are you going to make it allllllll the way to Dongnae on such difficult roads? It is nearly 350km away!”

“My life up until now has been more difficult than that,” Chang replied, frustrated and itching to get as far away from Hanyang as he could, and burning at the sudden chance to finally speak aloud the demons that had haunted him for thirty years.

Mu-yeong had asked him once to tell him what distressed him so that he may help. Worn down with worry and exhaustion, Chang was no longer so opposed to telling him. Mu-yeong, of course, completely missed it.

“And what about your meals? You will not get to see the delicacies you enjoy at the palace!”

It was every bit as pleasant as one might expect to learn that Mu-yeong thought him every bit as stupid as everyone else in the palace seemed to. “I do not care.”

“We could encounter bandits or rioters. They could kill us!”

“If I remain here, I will die anyway.”

“Because of the allegation of treason?” Mu-yeong scoffed. “Your Highness, even the Haewon Cho Clan cannot harm you for something you did not do!”

“But I did do it.” He paused before he said it, but he said it all the same. And a thousand ton weight lifted off his chest as he did. He hadn’t been able to breathe so easily in 25 years.

Mu-yeong was stunned. “What?” And after a moment, he continued, “I beg your pardon?”

“I…” Chang repeated slowly. “Conspired treason against my father.”

“ _Why?!_ ” Mu-yeong gasped, eyes wide. “How…you are the _Crown Prince_! The throne would have been yours anyway!”

Chang smiled, feeling almost high. “Crown Prince…That is correct. I am the Crown Prince of this nation. I am my father’s only son, but I will die if the Queen gives birth to a legitimate son. I am but an illegitimate prince born of a concubine.” He looked back up at Mu-yeong. “That was why. Because I wanted to live.”

Mu-yeong stared at him, an understanding of many things dawning in his eyes. Chang mused that this would be his greatest test of loyalty yet. “Oh…”

“Many scholars are likely already dying at the Royal Bureau of Investigation to protect me. The only way to save them and myself to go south to Dongnae. I must find out what happened to my father.”

So he turned south. He turned south, and Mu-yeong followed him. The only person in all of Korea he could truly trust through thick and thin. If a smile split Chang’s face from ear to ear, then Mu-yeong was too far behind him to see it.

It was a grave and terrible day, full of grave and terrible tasks to complete, wrongs to be righted, but Chang had never felt so free.

*******

Chang had been riding horses since he could walk. As such, he couldn’t understand why he was so damn sore. Perhaps that was more a consequence of the duration he had been riding, which was several days, combined with his lack of food intake. (Dried meat had never been his favorite and after several days of it, he could barely bring himself to swallow it, no matter how hungry he was.)

He tossed the piece he had been nibbling on into the flames, for which Mu-yeong chided him thoroughly like a father would his son as he snatched it from the fire.

“This is perfectly good food!”

“You eat it then. It’s making me sick.”

“You are so reckless! Why would you do something so dangerous? You don’t need to put yourself through this!”

Except for the part where he did. “I did not do this for my own sake! If I am dethroned, do you think my personal guards will be safe? Especially now that I have confessed to you that the allegations of treason are true? Anyone who ever knew me and their entire family will be an accessory. Your kind wife may also be killed.”

Mu-yeong stared at him, distressed. “Exactly! You shouldn’t have schemed such a thing!”

Chang rolled his eyes. It was only the fourth time they were having this conversation. At least this one was going better than the one two days prior where Mu-yeong had gone on for several hours (after a few drinks of suspicious liquor from wandering traveler, which Chang himself had politely declined) about how Chang should have _told_ him so he could have _done_ something.

“Like what?” Chang had asked.

“I would have _taken care of it_ for you!” Mu-yeong had insisted several times in a row. Chang had let him ramble until his voice went out.

As such, “You talk way too damn much.”

Mu-yeong huffed, scandalized. “Someone so noble as yourself should not say ‘damn’. Where did you even pick up such a term?”

“Where do you think? You are the only person around me who speaks that way.”

Mu-yeong chewed innocently on the dried meat. “I see. You are quite the fast learner—“

“I have been too nice to you. You just don’t know when to stop,” Chang deadpanned. “Say one more word and I shall annihilate your entire family.” 

It must have been a little too convincing, because Mu-yeong immediately nodded and curled in on himself, tense as a bowstring.

“I said it only in jest,” Chang added quickly. “Do not be angry.”

Mu-yeong stared at him some more before snapping, “How could you jest about something like that?” He was grinning as he said it.

Chang smiled back. “How could the Crown Prince’s guard be so cowardly? You are useless.”

“How could I not be afraid when the Crown Prince says he will annihilate my family?” As Chang snorted with laughter, he went on. “Does this amuse you?” He laughed comically before looking back over at Chang, dead serious. “What is so amusing about this?”

Chang laughed some more, his smile wide enough to make his cheeks hurt. He couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed.

*******

It apparently took Mu-yeong a good few minutes to shake him awake the next morning.

“You sleep like the dead!” he complained as Chang rubbed the tiredness out of his eyes. “How do you sleep so deeply in a strange place? It is not safe to do that!”

Chang would beg to differ. It was considerably safer sleeping out here with only Mu-yeong around for company than in Hanyang where an ever increasing percentage of the upper class wanted his head on a pike.

He hadn’t meant to say a lot of that out loud. Mu-yeong had just looked at him before letting it drop, a sad look in his eye. Chang supposed it was pretty sad that he preferred the threat of bodily harm from robbers and the company of one man to all the riches of Hanyang.

But enough of that.

The ride through the woods as the neared Jiyulheon was peaceful (eerily so, something in Chang whispered. He pushed it aside for the time being.)

“Is this the right path?”

Mu-yeong shrugged. “They told us to head to Geumjeong mountains. This is Geumjeong mountain, so we will get there soon.”

“You said that before,” Chang said with a smirk. “If we do not arrive within 30 minutes, I will annihilate your entire family.”

Mu-yeong looked over his shoulder at him, flabbergasted. “Do you truly enjoy jesting about that?”

Chang grinned. “I do.”

Mu-yeong huffed and failed to hide his smile from Chang. “Keep jesting about annihilating my family if it amuses you, your Highness. In return, please honor me with some seaweed from Gijang if we survive. I hear it is the best for pregnant women. And I could do with some beef too!” He chuckled warmly as he carried on.

Chang could and would do all that for him of course, but only half heard him as he noticed that something had changed…

Silence. It was the silence. When was there ever a forest that was this silent?

“How odd…” he murmured, mostly to himself.

He heard Mu-yeong say something about his wife and why was wanting to take care of her such an odd request?

“No, that’s not it...” he clarified. “It is too quiet. No birds, not even insects...”

Mu-yeong frowned as he looked around, inspecting their surroundings. “Your Highness…” he said, and he pointed to a house. Jiyulheon, as it were.

*******

What was supposed to be the most renowned clinic in the area…no longer was. The place was boarded up and booby trapped more than any prison Chang had ever seen. Not that he had ever seen a prison (besides his wing of the palace), but he could imagine.

It looked like a fortress, only the sharpened bamboo spikes were positioned as if they were trying to keep something in rather than out. Random farm equipment was piled in front of the gate. Again, to prevent something from getting out rather than to prevent anyone from getting in.

Chills ran down Chang’s spine as he approached in a way they hadn’t since he had stood in front of Lord Cho Hak-ju, seven guards behind him, none on his side. Mostly because there was blood on the stakes.

Mu-yeong climbed over the wall to investigate as Chang remained on the other side, fidgeting with his horse’s reins. When he froze at the top, only to continue without saying a word, Chang began to worry. And when he didn’t answer his repeated calls, he was forced to fight back a swell of panic, because it was so very quiet and Chang was suddenly very aware that they were so very alone.

Mu-yeong opened the gate, face drawn, just as Chang nervously leapt off his horse to investigate. And with good reason.

Something terrible truly had happened there. Blood was splattered on ever surface and what had clearly once been a bustling clinic had been completely destroyed on the inside. And completely deserted. And rigged as if to hold the kingdom’s most dangerous man. Blood covered bamboo spikes like spears, positioned everywhere, as if to keep something contained. More tools, covered in blood and gore. And the stench of death...

What was this place...

“I think something terrible happened to the people here…” Mu-yeong whispered, eyes wide as they stepped up onto the deck.

Chang only half listened to the wood creak ominously under their feet.

“But where is Physician Lee Seung-hui?” Chang wondered aloud. “We came all this way…we have to find him.” Chang refused to accept the possibility (read: probability) that the man was likely quite dead. He had to be here, alive. He just had to be. “Is anyone there?” Chang shouted.

Mu-yeong looked at him like he was crazy for shouting, as if there was no chance of whoever had done this still being present.

Chang wasn’t crazy, he was just desperate.

“You Highness, it is dangerous. Stay close to me.”

Chang’s mouth twitched. He had a sword didn’t he? And contrary to popular belief, he wasn’t a damn child—

The next thing he knew, his right foot was descending at a truly alarming rate and the rest of him went with it. He rolled out of it somehow, over the edge of the deck and down a stair, managing to avoid breaking his ankle (or his neck, for that matter. His old martial arts master would be so proud). That wasn’t to say it didn’t hurt, because it did. More than one might expect.

“Your Highness!” Mu-yeong was at his side in an instant, thinly veiled panic in his voice. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?!”

Chang shook off his friend’s hands after taking stock of his current state. His ego was more bruised than anything else.

He remained on the ground for a moment to collect himself and let the swell of bitter frustration simmer down. Everything was going to be fine.

That was somewhat logical...until he saw what was stuffed under the deck.

Bodies. Lots of them.

*******

The rest of the day went by in a bit of a blur. The ride to Dongnae to report this grievous crime. The hurried ride back. The investigation at the scene.

Chang walked amongst the rows of the bodies, the gruesome images battering his mind like wind on a fortress.

He had never seen so many dead people before. So many people who used to be mothers, fathers, brothers, daughters, spouses. And now they were…

Quite dead.

It should bother him more, he thought. Why didn’t it bother him more?

For someone who had been threatened so often with it, he had never before wondered what it was like to be dead...

“What brings a high military officer here all the way from Hanyang?” he overheard one of the guards ask Mu-yeong.

“I heard that Physician Lee Seung-hui was the best, so I wanted him to examine my brother. He looks fine, but he is not well.”

Chang supposed it was only fair, given the all annihilation jokes. Still, he looked over at his friend and cocked his head. _Seriously?_

Mu-yeong sobered a bit and turned back to the guard in haste. “My brother rushed out and forgot his identification tag. Please understand.”

“I understand,” the guard said, moving on to ask questions about what they saw when they arrived.

48 bodies is what they found. All brutally murdered and stuffed underneath the decks of several buildings.

_Who could have done something like this? And why?_

He wondered if this was somehow connected to the political catastrophe in Hanyang. Because Lee Seung-hui was not among the dead. So where was he? Did he have something to do with this?

Maybe Chang was a bit biased in thinking it, but he wasn’t so sure the physician was utterly incapable of such atrocities.

*******

Chang had not heard good things about the former magistrate of Dongnae. And since he arrived, he had also not heard good things about the new magistrate of Dongnae. Given the gravity of the situation, he hoped those rumors were wrong. But as he watched the guards round up dozens of random young men in a particularly unorganized fashion, his felt his hopes become increasingly dashed.

They were looking for a man named Yeong-shin, who had been treated at the clinic, and they were looking for him in the city of Dongnae. Because it made sense that he would flee towards a military stronghold after committing a grievous crime. Yes, definitely.

Seeing as he was about the age of the man they were looking for, he had taken cover under a small overhang to hopefully stay out of sight while he waited for Mu-yeong to return.

No such luck, as a guard saw him anyway. He cocked his head away to obscure his face. He may not have been this Yeong-shin, but the guards had more than enough reason to want him in their custody, whether they knew it yet or not, and Chang would prefer to not be around when they did hear of his actions.

“He is not who you seek,” Mu-yeong’s voice rumbled, tone leaving no room for argument as he showed the prince’s identification tag. The guard bowed quickly and left.

Chang softly sighed out a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding. Briefly, he thought about chastising Mu-yeong for revealing his identity, but ultimately decided against it.

It turned out that they were too focused on looking for the suspect to even think about finding the physician. Frustration prickled at the back of Chang’s mind. Well, if they weren’t going to help him, then he would just have to find him himself, wouldn’t he?

Mu-yeong, oddly enough, was fully behind that plan. He wanted to return to his wife in Hanyang, after all.

As guilty as he may have felt for taking Mu-yeong away from his pregnant wife, Chang couldn’t say he ever cared to see Hanyang again. Not while the Haewon Cho’s still lived in it.

*******

The slums of Dongnae were worse than those of Hanyang. The mud, the stench, the sickness…

In Hanyang, people had at least been up and around as they lived in the filth. In Dongnae, it seemed as though the people were just barely surviving in it.

 _This isn’t right_. _I have to fix this._

And he would, he decided. But first he had to live long enough to see the throne. It wasn’t as if the Haewon Cho’s would do anything to fix this.

“May I help you?”

“Ah!” Mu-yeong smiled. “Are you Kim, the medicinal herb supplier?”

The man nodded.

“I heard you supplied herbs to Jiyulheon.”

The man frowned. “I know nothing about what happened.”

“No, no,” Mu-yeong reassured him. “We are here about something else. We are looking for Physician Lee Seung-hui. Do you know where he is?”

The man sighed tiredly. “All I did was supply herbs. I do not know anything else. Apologies, but I am busy.” And he turned and walked away.

It was obviously not true. Chang had learned well enough how much one could overhear simply by being present and listening. It was how he had survived thirty years. So that was, quite frankly, bullshit. And one man’s reluctance was not going to prevent him from finding the physician and doing away with the Haewon Cho’s.

“He is not done talking,” he snapped at the man’s back. “Do those of lowly birth not learn manners?”

The man turned back to him, expression blank. “My elderly father has not eaten all day because of the fuss. I’ll at least bring him some water. If you want to flog me for it, go ahead. I’m leaving to draw water.”

That...wasn’t what he meant and he hadn’t...thought of that...He reached out in an aborted gesture to correct himself, to no avail. Shame, an old friend by now, had returned, as the guilt for having ever complained about anything burned him alive.

Mu-yeong looked back and forth between him and the man, expression much like one of a parent going to placate the person his child had wronged, and followed the man into his house.

“I’m sorry,” he heard Mu-yeong say. “My colleague is like that because he was spoiled as a child.” Chang wanted to sink into the mud, never to be seen again. “Please be understanding and tell me if you know anything. I will compensate you generously.”

The man shook his head. “I told you already, I haven’t seen him in months.”

Mu-yeong sighed. “Anything will do. Please tell me something.”

(Chang reckoned he should pay more attention to Mu-yeong in his newly founded quest to become a more understanding and generous person. “Tell me something so I have a reason to give you this money and help you.” His friend was a good man.)

And the man did. A single survivor from Jiyulheon, the physician Seo-bi, had gone in search of the resurrection plant, which was rumored to bring the dead back to life.

Later, Chang would wish he had never heard of any of it. Already, he felt very cold.

“A plant that brings the dead back to life?” he asked.

There was no such thing, the man said, but Chang wasn’t so sure. It was all very convenient, wasn’t it? Far too many things in a line to be coincidence.

*******

They found her right where the man said she would be. And she was every bit as out of it as the man said she was.

_Physician Lee could not avoid the disaster._

_It is all because of the resurrection plant._

_Those people are not dead._

Mu-yeong didn’t believe her. Chang did.

Her master saved a dead man in Hanyang with the plant. And at Jiyulheon, the people came back to life like monsters. As beasts with a foul stench. The stench of death.

(That’s what the monster in the palace had smelled like. Death.)

His father’s illness, no cure, a man brought back to life in Hanyang, the beast in the halls that smelled like death, his father missing.

The proof was back at Jiyulheon, she said. Proof that would overthrow the Haewon Cho’s and confirm…

Well.

Mu-yeong was looking at Chang like he was crazy, but he didn’t care.

 _The King is dead,_ his mind hummed as more of him began to accept it, or at least recognize that it was true.

_Long live the King._

*******

Jiyulheon was quite sinister when one was alone, with the blood, gore, and destruction…

But he wasn’t alone, was he? That horse certainly hadn’t been there when he’d left.

As he entered the old warehouse, he straightened the sheath of his sword. There was a man standing in a corner, surprising him enough that he almost drew.

“Is this what you came for?” a familiar voice asked.

The man was Beom-Il, here to arrest him by His Majesty’s command. 

“His Majesty’s command…” Chang mused aloud, anger and apprehension hardening his voice. “Tell me, does this nation truly have a King?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

His tone was light and dismissive. Chang wanted to ring his neck. “Why did you call Physician Lee to Hanyang?”

“He is the best at treating smallpox.”

“Then what did he use the resurrection plant for? A new treatment for smallpox? Someone dead of smallpox, perhaps.”

Beom-Il did not reply, momentarily unsettled.

“ _Did my father pass away?”_ Chang yelled, looking the guard dead in the eye.

“Of course not, your Highness,” Beom-Il drawled, expression perfectly blank, composure restored. “His Majesty is…very much alive.” His mouth lifted into a smirk. “Though, to tell you the truth…his mental capacity is not exactly there. However, he will be fine until the Queen gives birth.”

And there it was. The grand plan.

The Scholars had been right. The physician, Seo-bi, had been right. Chang’s own worst fears, had been right.

The plan had been to kill the King after the birth of his son, but the King had died too soon. So they had violated the laws of nature to keep their grip on power, and the last thing standing in their way was Chang.

The King was dead, and he was the King.

His eyes stung and he felt ungodly sick.

“Do you want it that badly?” he asked as he stared blankly ahead, thirty years of shit dampening the strength of his voice. “Do you truly covet power that much? Is that why you have committed acts that no one who serves the King must do?”

“What have you done, your Highness?” Beom-Il asked, glee dancing in his eyes, unable to resist relishing in the success of his family’s plan. “You were only _lucky_ to be born the only son of the King. You have done nothing. And yet you always looked at my father and I with that look you have now. As if you were saying ‘I am different from you slugs’. Now it rather seems our positions have been reversed, does it not? Now who is the only son of the _real_ King of Korea?”

Chang, despite everything, had never been one to truly hate. But in that moment, he hated Beom-Il and the Haewon Cho Clan with everything that he was.

“You are correct,” he hissed. “You are disgusting. You think yourselves so clever, but you are pathetic. You scorned the King and the royal family, and you brought misery upon the people. That is what you, Haewon Cho Clan, have done, and for that you are no more than the raw sewage in the streets of the Dongnae slum.”

Beom-Il took great offense to that. Chang was hoping he would. “Days ago, you told me to strike you , did you not? Today, I shall grant your wish.” And he drew.

Chang was hoping for that, too. “You said I was simply lucky? No. I was chosen. With the power bestowed on me by my father, I will punish you.” And he drew as well.

Beom-Il scoffed at him. “You cannot kill a person with that sword.”

Oh, no, Chang would beg to differ. If he had learned anything from the Haewon Cho’s endless scheming through the years and the general violence that permeated the court, it was that you could kill someone with anything.

But, as he lost a quarter of his sword blocking Beom-Il’s first strike, some things were harder to use than others.

 _Fight!_ Lord Ahn-Hyeon had told him once. _Fight like your life depends on it! Because it does._

He had lived by those words since he was six years old. It was just that he didn’t understand exactly how vital they were.

*******

He had thought he knew violence after years of living under threat of death in Hanyang. _He did not know anything._

*******

He… he _knew_ what had happened. It was just that he…was having trouble remembering it all.

He must have run a thousand miles. His body felt like he had run a thousand miles. And yet he felt like he could run a thousand more.

White noise buzzed in his head unpleasantly. Some of it must have been the people outside, but they couldn’t possibly be this loud. The rest of it was…

_The blood, the screams, shrieks, hissing, the stench, by he ancestors his lungs hurt, he can’t go on much longer but if he falters he’ll die he’s going to die, so run faster._

Something clanged outside and Chang flinched, hearing instead the bang of a gun in his right ear. He couldn’t hear anything at all now save a shrill ringing in that ear.

The entire population of Dongnae had been reduced to the people outside, which was, what? Thirty people? Maybe less? (Minus of course the bastards who had abandoned them, but who knows what had happened to them.)

_All because he hadn’t climbed fast enough, because he hadn’t run fast enough. Because he had gone to Jiyulheon in search of answers. Because—_

_Because the King was dead. Long live the King._

_But the King hadn’t run fast enough and now hundreds of people were dead and thousands more would die and it’s your fault it’s your fault itsyourfaultitsyourfaultitsyour—_

“Highness?”

Chang blinked. His hands were shaking. He clasped them together.

“May I come in?”

He sighed and tried to say yes, but his throat was too dry. He swallowed hard and spoke again.

“Come in.”

It was Mu-yeong. He knew that it had been the moment he heard his voice. Who else would it have been?

“I think you should come out.”

Chang didn’t want to come out. He didn’t want to be reminded of the destruction his nosiness had wrought, his _desperation_ to stay alive and hold onto power. There had been so many other ways for him to live, why hadn’t he—

He took a breath, stretching out his arms. He was stiff from sitting still too long.

It was the people (all that was left of Dongnae so many had died why hadn’t he climbed just a little faster—), lined up to thank him.

The eldest member of the group spoke for them. “Your Highness, you saved us!” They all bowed down and said as one, “Thank you! Thank you for saving us!”

Chang’s head spun as Mu-yeong and Seo-bi looked at him with such hope. Hope for their lives today, and for the future. Even Yeong-shin, newly exonerated of killing 48 people, stood at the back, looking at him with a half smile on his face as he leaned on his gun.

What did they have to thank him for, he wondered as he looked out over them. His very existence had wrought all this. This…this was all his fault.

He looked to Mu-yeong. “Treat the wounded and prepare some food to eat.” His voice was quiet. He couldn’t muster up the energy to make it any louder.

And he walked back into the half destroyed office and vomited up the contents of his stomach in the back corner.

Throat and nose burning, he stared down at his shaking hands as tears blurred his vision.

Now he could remember. He didn’t want to remember.

*******

It had started just over there, in the warehouse where he had fought Beom-Il. Chang was halfway decent with a sword, but in the end he didn’t have the skill of a military officer and the fight ended with them both beaten up, but with a sword to Chang’s throat nonetheless.

That’s when it had all gone to shit.

Physician Lee, dead except for the part where he wasn’t, in a box. Chang had done nothing but stand there, paralyzed with terror, as the physician attacked the guard and the guard and the physician attacked Beom-Il. Beom-Il killed the guard and Chang killed the physician, but not before the bastard bit and turned Beom-Il into a monster.

Then he had run, run as fast as he could to the door away from what used to be Beom-Il, the monster’s breath hot on his neck, and somehow his reflexes had saved him from being torn to shreds.

Beom-Il’s head on the ground was not something he would soon forget. Nor would he forget the way blood had poured from his mouth as he stared at Chang right before he attacked him, skin already mottled and eyes clouded with a vicious hunger.

And then he had run again. Run for the hills and for Dongnae as the wind whistled around him like ghosts screaming in the night. Dongnae, gone up in smoke. Then he had run some more.

Run from the monsters, ever increasing in number as they overtook more and more innocent people and turned them into monsters as well. Kept running until he was the only one still human, until his lungs ached and his feet must have bled in his boots. He ran for his life as Mu-yeong shot the monsters down around him.

They took down his horse, so the both of them ran for the barracks.

But they were locked out by the wealthy, left to die, so Chang climbed the wall ( _not fast enough to make it over, make it to the gate, let the people in_ ), swearing on his life to never ever do such a thing, may the universe strike him down if he ever broke his promise, and they were all shot down with arrows. And then the monsters came, so they ran some more.

They jumped off a cliff and the monsters went with them. The water soaked their robes and Chang could swim, but in at least twenty pounds of waterlogged fabric and boots he struggled.

(Drowning would have been better than being eaten by those things, which sank around him.)

He had never been so exhausted in his life by the time he and Mu-yeong finally dragged themselves to shore. And he had never been so angry. At those bastards in the barracks for leaving them to die, at the Haewon Cho Clan for being so desperate for power that they would bring the King back from the dead, risking life and limb of everyone in the kingdom, just for a chance to steal it away. He was angry at Physician Lee, for complying with their demands and when it all went to hell, being incapable of remedying his mistakes.

But most of all he was angry at himself, for not being able to do a damn thing about any of it.

And he heard them the next day coming up with their absurd plan for disposing of the bodies, as if the honor of the dead was worth more than the lives of the remaining people.

That advisor. That bastard advisor who had nearly killed them all was the _genius_ behind it. Chang didn’t even feel the crush of bone on bone when he punched him hard enough to knock him down. Nothing had ever felt so good, except for when he drew his sword, seeing the fear on his face. The same fear the people had felt the night before.

“Who are you t-to think you can do this?” the man stammered from his place on the ground.

Chang saw red. “You are not only incompetent, but endlessly vile!” he nearly snarled. “You locked the doors of the barracks last night. Countless people died!”

“I-if I had opened the gates, the soldiers would have been in danger!”

“Firing your arrow at me is punishable by death and the annihilation of your family. You have committed treason!”

The magistrate looking, trembling, between the two of them. “W-who did you say you were again?”

Chang tossed him his identification tag, savoring the resulting stammering and shock on the fool’s face as he shouted, “IT IS AN HONOR TO GREET THE CROWN PRINCE!”

_The King is dead._

_Long live the King_.

He ignored the ache of grief in his heart and instead focused on the terror on the advisor’s face as he realized what a grave mistake he had made by locking the doors. It was quite enjoyable.

“I should kill you this instant,” he hissed.

“Spare my life!” he begged, as the people had begged, but the truth of the situation was that they needed all the help they could get, so his punishment would have to wait. In the meantime, Chang would see to it that he got the most disgusting job available. He pulled his sword from the man’s neck and watched as he spluttered incoherently, sweeping forward into a bow.

They made a plan to evacuate the survivors, quarantine Dongnae, and burn the bodies. Whatever their traditions, they would have to be null and void in the face of such a crisis.

“WE SHALL OBEY!” the people cried, albeit rather reluctantly. As long as they did it, it didn’t really matter what they thought.

Mu-yeong looked at him then, pride shinning in his eyes and maybe Chang preened, just a little.

Maybe, just maybe, they could fix this.

(A day later at Jiyulheon, Chang pressed his shaking hands to his mouth to stifle his sobs, eyes shut tight against the tears. Oh how stupid he had been. How fucking _stupid!_ )

Hours later, as he poured over Physician Lee’s notes and subsequent account of the King’s death, the exhaustion began to weigh on him. Some small part of him had held on to the hope that Beom-Il had just been full of shit, that the physician and the scholars and his own instincts were all wrong, that his father was still alive. But he wasn’t.

The physician, Seo-Bi, said the disease could be cured. If only she could find the plant, maybe they could find a way. Hope glimmered in Chang’s chest, but he found himself unable to hold on to it all that tightly.

Then came Mu-yeong with the joyous news that they couldn’t find Beom-Il’s head, and it was very possible that someone had taken it and sent it to Lord Cho. Chang stared at the ground about ten feet out, temples throbbing.

“Why didn’t you just talk to him nicely?” Mu-yeong asked, pained. “He is Lord Hak-ju’s precious only son. If he receives his only son’s decapitated head, he won’t forgive us!”

He thought of Beom-Il, turned into a monster, and of his father, turned into the same thing, all because of the Haewon Cho’s.

He was so, so angry. “I won’t forgive him either!”

“You were accused of treason and fled all the way to Dongnae! How do you plan to fight him?!”

Chang kept staring at the same spot in the distance. “I have proof now.”

“Proof? What proof?”

_The King is dead._

_Long live the King._

_Stay alive_ , his father had said. _You must stay alive._

His eyes watered, grief nearly choking him. “My father…has passed away.”

Mu-yeong made a shocked sound. “P-passed away?!”

_The King is dead._

_Long live the fucking King._

(A day later in Jiyulheon, Chang’s chest seized in a potent mixture of grief and rage as he bit his palm hard to keep from screaming.)

“Cho Hak-ju and the Queen used the resurrection plant on him after he passed and turned him into a monster to protect their authority.”

 _Why…_ Chang wondered, and not for the first time, _do they hate me so much? I am not power hungry. We could have been friends. We could have worked together…Why do they hate us all so much?_

Mu-yeong stared at him, mouth gaping like a fish. Staring at him, certain now, that he was staring at the King. It was too much.

He shook himself.

“The journal and the remaining physician will testify to that.” He blinked the tears out of his eyes, resolve firming. Over Chang’s dead body would the Haewon Cho’s get away with this. Which was how it was always going to end anyway. “Sangju. I will go to Lord Ahn-Hyeon.”

(That’s when things really started to get fuzzy for Chang).

When they returned to Dongnae, the wealthy bastards had done it again. Had left the poor to rot while they fled to save themselves, sun sinking in the sky, bodies exactly where they were that morning.

And with the rest of the ships burned to ash the night before…

Jiyulheon. They were going back to Jiyulheon.

He remembered walking, mostly unaware of how quickly the sun was setting, until one of the little girls had seen the bodies hidden beneath the rocky overhangs. Then they ran, pushing the carts as the cracking, hissing sounds of the monsters waking up permeated the air.

He remembered the cart getting stuck and how they couldn’t lift it, remembered Mu-yeong begging him to run.

 _You are the King now,_ went unspoken in his plea _. You have to go!_

“I am different!” he shouted, voice strained from he exertion of trying to life the cart. “I am different than those people on the boats and I am different from the Haewon Cho Clan! I will _never_ abandon my people!”

With the four of them lifting it, they got it out in the nick of time.

And then they ran until their lungs burned, until Chang couldn’t feel his legs, but still they kept running. He remembered the hot breath of a monster on his neck and the bang of a gun in his ear as Yeong-shin shot the thing point blank in the face and saved his life.

He remembered the second monster that almost had him, the one Yeong-shin tried to shoot only to have his gun misfire, the one Mu-yeong leapt to decapitate. He had skidded to a halt, ready to run and defend his friend, but for all his jokes about Mu-yeong’s age, the man could move.

They made it. Just barely, they made it.

The rest of the night, standing in formation (Mu-yeong had insisted Chang be at the back, and he hadn’t taken no for an answer) with the screams and hisses and yowls of the monsters blanketing them, standing perfectly still with their blood hot and pounding in their ears, Chang did not remember so well.

He only remembered he relief of the sun and the all clear from Yeong-shin.

And then…and then he was sitting in the half destroyed office, Mu-yeong calling out to him, and he didn’t know how long he had been there or why he was shaking so badly.

*******

He came back to himself with a jolt. He was still crouched in the corner, shaking like a leaf, bile on his lips and tears on his cheeks.

_You’re fine. Pull yourself together._

He scrubbed his face and mouth as clean as he could with the filthy sleeve of his robes and stood, waiting for the dizziness and exhaustion to pass.

He was fine. He was just fine. Because he had to be fine.

_Those who died because of him weren’t fine. Those who died because he hadn’t been better weren’t—_

Composing himself, he walked outside. Mu-yeong turned when he heard him come out, dipping his head to hide the concern in his eyes. “Your Highness.”

Chang nodded to him, looking out over the courtyard. He frowned at the bits of dried roots the people were eating. “Is that all there is for the people to eat?“

Mu-yeong looked out as well. “Even that was difficult to obtain. The war was hard on them, but they were taxed hard as well. How could they have food?”

_Where did you think your food came from, Chang, hmm? Well, now you know, don’t you?_

Guilt turned his stomach, but he ignored it. He could not change what had happened, but if they survived this he would change the future. And he could help this right now, couldn’t he?

He had just been about to retrieve the dried meat they had brought with them for the journey when something bounced off the back of his thigh.

His frozen, rattled heart warmed slightly. The resilience of children had always been something that amazed him. Even after all that, these kids could still find it within themselves to smile and laugh and play. Chang couldn’t ever remember being able to do that even when he was a child.

In the moment, Chang couldn’t fix much, but there were one or two things he could do.

“Your Highness?” There was fear in Mu-yeong’s voice. After everything, did Mu-yeong still think so little of him?

“Bring those children to me.”

“Your Highness?” Mu-yeong asked again, stunned. Chang’s head buzzed unpleasantly as he felt the eyes of the people lock onto him. Did they all think so little of him?

Maybe, or maybe not, but they all did think so little of the upper class, and that was warranted.

Chang was going to change things, and he was going to start now.

When he came back up, the four kids were lined up. A little girl, the same one who had spotted the monsters and saved their lives the night before, spoke.

“Your Highness,” she whimpered. “We deserve to be killed for what we did!”

Had Chang been literally anyone else, he would have swept the girl —no, all four of them— up in his arms and never let them go, but propriety held him back. When he was King, if he made it back alive, he would make it illegal to kill any child for any reason, because he knew well enough what it felt like to fear death at that age. No child should ever feel like that.

But that fear had been sowed and he couldn’t fix it now, so he focused on the one thing he could fix.

He handed her a small strip of dried meat.

She stopped crying immediately and stared at it, gently taking it from him with two hands. “W-what is it?”

“It’s food.” He handed the other three their pieces, watching with a small smile as they chewed on them, instantly brightening up. “Now go on and play,” he said, giving them back their ball and watching them run off to continue their game. Turning to Mu-yeong, he handed him the rest of the meat. “Give this to them.”

“Your Highness—“

“I’m fine. I’m sick of it anyway.”

Mu-yeong smiled at him and bowed, that pride back to shine in his eyes.

Chang did not deserve that pride. No, he was in the people’s debt for the privileged life he had led and the destruction his existence had wrought on them.

*******

Chang sat on the step and watched as the people crowded, mesmerized, around the pot. Every now and again, their chatter started to sound like the monsters yowling outside the gate and he started to forget where he was. He blinked hard to shake himself out of it, with limited success.

“Look, it got bigger!” someone cried with joy.

Chang smiled softly.

Mu-yeong approached him then, grinning like a loon. “They are happy with the food,” he said. Chang knew he said that in place of something else, but refused to read into it. His pride was misplaced. “What will you do now?”

He sighed, watching the kids kick the ball back and forth. Truthfully, he didn’t want to move a muscle, but he was no coward. After everyone who had died because of him, he had to remember his mission. “I will go to Lord Ahn Hyeon in Sangju.”

Many times over the years, he had thought to go to Sangju in search of aid. Always, he stopped himself, not wishing to disturb the grieving man with is petty difficulties. Not so petty, the scholars had argued, when his life was on the line. Chang had ignored them. He would do so no longer. For this, they needed the Lord’s aid.

Yeong-shin, who had been sitting a few feet away with his bowl of broth, set it down and stood, moving closer and dipping his head in a bow. Chang pretended not to see him and Mu-yeong frowned at him.

“What is it?”

“I am from Sangju,” the man said, looking right at Chang as he said it. Chang looked back at him after a moment. “If you wish to go to Sangju, I will be your guide.”

Mu-yeong was unimpressed. “Oh, will you? How can we trust you? Who _are_ you, exactly?”

Yeong-shin’s gaze fell to the ground the ground as he stumbled over his answer. “I am merely one of the people.”

“Then how does one of the people know how to shoot a gun?”

“I learned while serving in the war.”

Mu-yeong looked him dead in the eye. “You shot a monster right in the forehead as it charged you. You’re more than just a simple soldier. Who are you?”

Yeong-shin appeared to have no answer for that. Luckily for him, he didn’t have time to give one.

Someone —or more likely something, was rattling at the gate. The people scrambled for their weapons, terror renewed, and then…

“TRAITOR LEE CHANG, THE CROWN PRINCE, MUST HEAR THIS!”

They had come for him. Through the monsters and the destruction, they had still come for him.

The people chattered nervously, with the main consensus being that the soldiers outside were sorely mistaken.

“Your Highness, let me handle it,” Mu-yeong said, calling out to the soldier that he was coming out.

That’s when the arrows started, and the remaining people of Dongnae dropped like flies.

Chang froze solid where he was sitting on the deck. He knew he needed to run, to help the people struggling to get out of the way of the arrows. There were women, children. At the very least he had to move so he himself would not be struck. Somewhere in the distance, he heard Mu-Yeong screaming for him to get down, but he couldn’t move. Not a muscle. He could only watch in horror as more people died simply because he existed.

“Your Highness!” Chang started hard. Mu-yeong had somehow managed to drag him off the deck and behind a wall without him noticing, and was frantically checking over him for injuries. “Are you okay?!”

He heard the question, but he couldn’t process it. He looked out behind the wall, breath rattling in his lungs as he took in the destruction. Half. Probably half of the Dongnae survivors were dead now. And…

There. Lying face down in the dirt just over there. The girl, the little girl who had saved them. She was just over there, an arrow in her back, blood soaking the ground around her.

Something in him cracked and then shattered, never to be repaired.

“It’s my fault,” he whispered, voice shaking, unable to tear his eyes away as his very soul bled. “This is all my fault…”

“That is correct! This is all because of you!” Yeong-shin hissed at him from across the entryway where he was crouched with the other survivors. Chang hadn’t noticed him there before.

Mu-yeong yelled at him to shut up, but that didn’t make what he was saying any less true.

“If we are to survive, you must step up! Otherwise they will kill us all!”

“SHUT UP!” Mu-yeong yelled again, still crouched protectively by Chang, a hand on his shoulder.

Chang looked over at Yeong-shin, and behind him at the remaining people, head feeling like it was stuffed with cotton. No more than fifteen left. Out of all of Dongnae, only fifteen survived. Because he existed. His eyes went back to the little girl. What made him so different that he was here, alive, and she was there, dead?

Nothing. He was simply _lucky._

Mu-yeong was shaking his shoulder, begging Chang to tell him if he was all right. It brought Chang back to himself enough to remember that the rest of the people would die too and many more along with them if they did not get Lord Ahn-Hyeon’s support, which they would not get without Chang.

Yeong-shin was right. Yes, he needed to step up. There was no time for this foolishness. So he locked the tangled mess of emotions up far away and did just that.

“Yeong-shin, was it?”

The man looked at him skeptically, nodding.

“You’re going to need that gun.”

*******

Chang couldn’t believe their plan had actually worked. Pick off some of the soldiers using the cover of smoke and disperse the rest using Mu-yeong’s knowledge of their signals. Send the people to Yangsan and flee with Seo-bi and Yeong-shin on horseback to Sangju.

But it had worked, and they were free.

He was numb, even as he put on a brave face and spoke motivating words. It was not different than what he had been doing for decades.

Except for the part where it was.

*******

The flames danced soothingly in the dark of the night. Chang must have been staring at them for a while given the light spots in his vision when he looked away, but he didn’t really remember.

“Eat, your Highness,” he heard Mu-yeong say.

The guard had brought him some dried meat he had hidden away along with some fresh water. Chang was distantly aware of his body aching with fatigue and hunger, but he couldn’t fathom eating.

_The little girl, taking the scrap of meat in her tiny hands. Why hadn’t he given her more?_

_But it wasn’t like it had mattered anyway._

He wondered, would she turn into a monster, too?

_Beom-Il’s bloody smile, his inhuman roar. The same thing on that little girl’s face—_

He looked back at the fire, feeling like he was sitting five feet behind his own body.

Mu-Yeong sighed. “It is not your fault. You did your best to save those people.”

_The yowls of the monster trying to squirm under the gate at Jiyulheon. The cries of the people as they fell._

Bullshit.

“If I had stepped in sooner, I could have saved them.”

“And then you would have ended up dead! And it would not help them to have Lord Hak-ju on the throne,” Mu-yeong replied sternly, and he was right. Lord Hak-ju didn’t give a rat’s ass about anything besides himself and his own quest for power.

All the same, Chang wondered again what about him was so different that he deserved to live while those people deserved to die. When he didn’t reply, Mu-yeong frowned and continued vehemently. “You said you must to stay alive. Didn’t you conspire treason in order to stay alive?”

He had, but he wondered if secretly he had wanted to hold on to the power, too. Nothing would have ever stopped him from abdicating and going to Sangju to live out the rest of his days in peace. Or faking his death, if Lord Cho wouldn’t let him go that easily. But he hadn’t. Why hadn’t he?

“I wanted to be different. I wanted to be different from those who abandoned the weak,” he said, not fully in response to Mu-yeong’s question. That was all well and good, but was his want to _try_ to be different (with no guarantee that given the throne, he wouldn’t fall into the habits of old like everyone else who said they would be different and never were) worth so many lives? No. No it was not, and now his hands were stained every it as bloody as Cho Hak-ju’s.

“And you were different.” Seo-bi. Back from washing the girl’s ribbon. The one who had died so Chang could live. “You stayed with us. You helped us. You cared about us, so you were different from those who fled. That is how I saw it.”He was so, so tired, but far too tired to sleep. He did not believe her, and he did not answer her.

The physician cast her eyes down at his and Mu-yeong’s lack of reply. “I…will look for some herbs to remedy your wounds.”

Wounds?

Chang suddenly became aware of the burning sensation on the inside of his left wrist. He glanced down at what turned out to be semi-fresh scratches. He didn’t remember how he had gotten them.

He also noted the blood under the nails of his right hand. Hard to say exactly where that came from, given that they were all caked with blood from various sources.

Mu-yeong was eyeing him carefully. Chang looked back into the fire.

“Is he back yet?” he asked, referring to their newfound guide.

Mu-yeong looked over his shoulder. “Not yet, I’m afraid.” He gave another quick look around before leaning in closer. “His name is still unknown.”

Chang glanced at him, very sure that the man’s name was Yeong-shin.

“His identity tag is fake,” Mu-yeong clarified.

Chang couldn’t find it within himself to care. The man had secrets, what did that matter to Chang. They needed someone who knew the area, and Yeong-shin had already proven that he did. Besides, he had shown remarkable bravery in defending the people, going so far as to _run back_ from the safety of Jiyulheon to help them and staying to help them, even when faced with certain death. And he had saved Chang’s life twice now. That was all Chang needed to know.

“Did you not see him wield the rifle?” Mu-yeong pressed.

Chang failed to see how that was a bad thing.

“Not even palace guards are that skilled. Those who can match that level of prowess are from the Chakho.”

“The elite group that hunts tigers.”

“Yes. Since tiger hunting is dangerous, the members are chosen based on their fighting skill.” He leaned closer. “ _Regardless_ of their social status.”

He said that like it was such a scandalous thing. Perhaps a week ago, Chang might have frowned at that as well. But where he was now, such concerns were the furthest thing from his mind. Chang looked back into the flames as he warded off the memory of Beom-Il hacking at him with his sword with intent to severely injure, if not kill. Social status had absolutely nothing to do with skill. He also didn’t see how a tiger hunter would be anything other than extremely useful in their current situation.

“Many of them are quite dangerous,” Mu-yeong went on. “They would do anything to stay alive.”

“They are like me, then.”

“Your Highness—“ Mu-yeong startled before he could finish, leaping to his feet and drawing his sword.

Given the events of the past few days, Chang should have leapt to his feet as well, but he didn’t. He just…didn’t.

It was only Yeong-shin, completely unfazed by Mu-yeong’s defensive posture. He dipped his head to both of them in greeting. “No soldiers on our tail,” he reported. “I also checked the villages. The disease has not spread here yet, but the people are already terrified by the rumors and from the looks of the houses, many have already fled.”

Yeong-shin again looked directly at him when he spoke, an odd look in his eye, like he understood everything Chang had ever experienced on a personal level. If he was Chakho, he probably did. And according to Mu-yeong that should be an issue, but Chang didn’t see it that way. No, when he looked at Yeong-shin, all he saw was a very tired man who was sick of seeing people die and would do anything to stop it from happening. He didn’t see anything wrong with that.

Yeong-shin’s eyes briefly fell to the scratches on Chang’s wrist before flicking back up to his face. If Chang didn’t know better, he would almost say Yeong-shin’s face reflected something like concern. The man bowed and went on his way before Chang could think on it further, and any further thought on anything at all was silenced by a piercing scream that could come from none other than Seo-bi.

All three of them were on their feet and running in an instant towards the sound.

Just as they reached the tree line, Seo-bi came flying out. “A monster! There was a monster!” she shrieked, sprinting behind their line and peaking out from behind Chang.

They could hear the thing, wherever it was. Thankfully it only sounded like there was one of them. They tensed as it came closer, shuffling through the bushes. Between the three of them they should be okay, so long as—

“Water! Please, someone give me water!”

…What?”

“Is that…” began Mu-yeong.

“Magistrate Cho?” Seo-bi finished.

_The screaming people, desperately reaching for the ship out on the horizon, running from the monsters, the roars, the yowls, the fear permeating the air—_

Oh hell no.

The man stumped out into the clearing and Chang lowered his sword, took two steps forward, and kicked the man hard in the chest. The sound of the man getting the wind knocked out of him was very satisfying. What was more satisfying was cutting off his aborted “your Highness” with another kick that sent him sprawling.

“Do you know of all the blood shed by the people you abandoned?” he snarled, grinding the man’s face into the dirt with his boot. Someone behind him called for him to stop, but he barely heard it. Everything was very fuzzy and he wasn’t sure why. “Do you _understand_ how many people died?!”

“Please stop.” That time he recognized Mu-yeong’s voice. He was perfectly calm as he said again, “Stop, your Highness. He is not even worth killing.”

With a great effort, and only because it was Mu-yeong who was asking (and because he had seen _so much_ blood and death, he didn’t think he could bear to see anymore today), he let him go.

And it was a good thing he did, because the bastard brought with him knew of the disease having spread on the ship. Which was headed straight for Sangju. Which had no idea it was coming because the magistrate had shorted the notification process.

Chang wanted to break something. Preferably the magistrate.

“If Sangju falls…” Mu-yeong said, voice grave. “It will reach Hanyang in no time!”

“We leave for Sangju straight away.”

*******

Chang couldn’t really say he remembered much of the following day besides the constant ringing in his ears and the persistent fog in his head.

He vaguely remembered catching the villagers on the outskirts of Sangju with cargo that, according to the magistrate, had been stolen from the ship he and the rest of the Dongnae upper class had stolen themselves, so as far as Chang was concerned, the people could keep it. (With the image of the little girl with an arrow in her back burned to the inside of his eyelids, he could not bring himself to care).

But after the magistrate’s little hissy fit, the people wouldn’t tell them where they _buried the bodies_ , so Chang spouted off some horseshit about crimes and worse crimes (he had essentially murdered an entire city along with several small children, so he would know a great deal about those) and how they could remedy their error by showing them the bodies, etc etc.

Whatever would get them to talk.

They followed the men out into the wheat field. It seemed to go on forever, Chang noted absentmindedly, not really paying attention.

_Just days ago, the Dongnae townspeople were still alive. Just two days ago, those little kids were still alive…_

The men slowed to a stop suddenly in the middle of the field, which wasn’t suspicious at all. Chang tightened his grip on his geomjip.

“Is this the place?” called the magistrate hesitantly from the back of the group. When he got no response, he called again. “What are you doing? Keep leading the way!”

The men turned around slowly, readying their weapons. “We know people who steal property get beheaded.”

“W-what are you talking about?” stammered the magistrate.

“We have lived long enough lives,” they went on. “But our children do not deserve to die, and without you to talk of our crimes, our sins will stay hidden.”

Chang was so very tired. Indeed, perhaps they all deserved to die for their crimes. He and the magistrate at least, Chang mused bitterly. Mu-yeong and Seo-bi, however, did not.

“Damn you bastards!” Mu-yeong snarled. “Do you know who you are addressing?!”

 _Did it matter?_ Chang wondered.

“Lower your weapons!”

The men raised them instead, edging forward.

So much death… there had been so much death. Chang couldn’t bear any more.

“This matter is graver than stealing,” he said, voice bearing the full weight of his weariness. “If we do not sort this out, not only you and your children, but all of Gyeongsang may die. Now lead us to the corpses.”

_Please…do not make us kill you, too._

They didn’t answer, adjusting their grips on their weapons and moving forward more quickly.

Goddamnit, would they not just listen to him? “Has hunger impaired your hearing?” Chang roared. Their mistrust would not lead to their deaths. He would make them listen. “Where are the bodies?!”

“You’re standing on them.”

A chill ran down his spine as Chang stared at them with a dawning horror, painfully aware of how low the sun was in the sky.

_Not again, please please not again._

The sun sank below the horizon and the terrible hissing of the monsters reached their ears.

 _Again,_ Chang thought, suddenly frighteningly calm. _Again._

After that it was all screams and yowls and blood and that terrible stench. The monsters were everywhere.

It was almost as if he was watching the whole thing from the sidelines.

The townspeople fell quickly, completely unprepared for what was coming at them, and without them to aid in fending off the onslaught, there were just too many.

He had lost track of how many he killed (not that he had been counting in the first place). One strike, two, three more monsters down, then one almost had him, running full tilt into the side of him and knocking him to the ground. Somehow he got his forearm under the thing’s chin and not in its mouth. A discarded tool through the thing’s skull, and Chang barely had the strength to wrench its dead weight off him.

 _So this is where we die,_ he mused disconnectedly as he watched the carnage around him from where he was on the ground, limbs refusing to move.

His friends…Mu-yeong, Yeong-shin, Seo-bi, and that blasted magistrate were so close to being overwhelmed by the monsters. He had to get up and help, why couldn’t he get up?

The moon was still so low in the sky, hadn’t they been fighting for hours?

And there were more, so many more…

He was so disoriented with terror and exhaustion that he could barely remember where he was…

_That girl died for you, you will not die here! She will have died for nothing._

_Fight,_ his mind whispered as the new wave of monsters came closer. _Your life depends on it!_

He wrapped his hand around the hilt of his sword as a monster fixed its eyes on him and headed straight for him.

Until, suddenly, it was rather…on fire.

He threw himself out of the way as it came crashing down right where he had been laying. The others fell too under a volley of arrows.

The wheat around them went up in flames as men dressed in white swept in and slaughtered the beasts like the saw them every day.

Chang had gotten back up at some point, he realized as his sword cut through the necks of two consecutive monsters.

 _What the hell was going on…_ he wondered as he looked around at the men in white, ears ringing as the yowls of the monsters faded with each passing moment.

That man, just over there…he was so familiar, he was…

Lord Ahn-Hyeon. He was Lord Ahn-Hyeon.

Chang’s shoulders sagged with relief as he drank in the sight of the man. Lord Ahn-Hyeon, gaze settling on Chang, did the same before falling to his knees at the sight of him, staring at him like a son he had not seen in years before bowing deeply. Chang’s heart ached.

“Show your respects! He is the Crown Prince! The heir to the throne!”

_The King is dead. Long live the King._

“WE GREET HIS HIGHNESS!” the men in white yelled, bowing down. Chang wished they would get up. There could be more monsters anywhere, and he couldn’t stand it if anyone else died for him that night, all the men from the town had already died because he existed and had come into their town and he couldn’t bear it, he couldn’t—

Lord Ahn-Hyeon, his lifeline yet again, stood, never once taking his eyes off Chang, like he might disappear if he did.

“It has been a while, Master,” he said. His eyes stung ever so slightly as he did.

How Chang had missed him.

*******

Chang didn’t remember the rest of the walk to Sangju. He didn’t remember picking up his gat and putting it back on his head, nor straightening his filthy robes.

Somehow though, he had done all that and was now following Lord Ahn-Hyeon into a large room in his house.

The minute they stepped into the room and the doors closed behind them, leaving them alone, Lord Ahn-Hyeon swept him up in his arms.

“Chang…” he heard the man whisper, or maybe he just imagined it. He wasn’t sure. He could only sag into the man’s arms, head resting on his shoulder as he let the clean smell of his mentor calm his frayed nerves. He would not normally allow himself such a display of weakness, but after everything…

After everything….

He didn’t remember sitting down. Or giving Lord Ahn-Hyeon the physician’s journal. Or starting to discuss it. He felt like he was sitting about a foot behind his body. He somehow still remembered what he had been about to say.

“There’s no lie to any of it. Father…” His throat closed up. He swallowed around it and continued. “Has passed away… Physician Lee Seung-hui and Cho Hak-ju fed my father the resurrection plant and turned him into…into one of those things. That is what started all this. Cho Hak-ju is as monstrous as ever. You must help us!” he pleaded, out of breath by the time he finished, he had said it all so fast and without pausing for air.

Oh how he yearned to tell him everything, everything that had happened these past three years. He found himself leaning forward towards the man, unconsciously seeking out his support, by the ancestors he had missed him _so much_ …

“I will return to Hanyang and punish the Haewon Cho Clan and build the nation anew.” He stared at Lord Ahn-Hyeon. Propriety kept a man of Chang’s status from outright begging, but he was nearly there.

_Just help us, just say you will help us—_

“When was the last time you had some sleep?”

…What?

Lord Ahn-Hyeon regarded him kindly. “Have you come all this way despite the hunger and disheveled appearance?”

Chang looked down at himself, robes filthy and covered in dirt and flecks of blood. It was then that he noticed the fresh bloodstain on the fabric that covered his left wrist. He ran the pad of his thumb over the fingers of his right hand, feeling the crusted blood there as well. He didn’t remember doing that, had he done that?

He rested that hand in his lap, looking back up at his former master.

The man smiled at him. “Thugs on the street may do so, however Your Highness may not.”

Something like shame at disappointing the man wove its way through his core, mingled with an onslaught of bitter apathy.

“The Crown Prince must always look decent and confident.”

That was truly the least of his worries. He blinked and the image of the dead girl flashed before his eyes. It was the least of her worries, too. He had never even learned her name…

_I must look decent and confident and children should be alive and not dead, but things aren’t always as they should be, now are they?_

And the answer to his earlier question was yes, he had given himself the scratches on his wrist, because he was doing it now, he realized. Hands set carefully and politely in his lap, he was itching at the inside of his left wrist unconsciously, struck with a sudden discomfort and urge to flee. He wasn’t sure why.

Lord Ahn-Hyeon stood. “Sangju is my home. I urge you, Your Highness, to rest peacefully for tonight.”

Chang sighed heavily, standing as well. “There is no time to rest!” ****

“You should rest,” Lord Ahn-Hyeon repeated calmly. “And let your body recover. How else will you fight the chief palace guard?”

Chang stared at him. The what?

Lord Ahn-Hyeon strolled around the table to stand in front of him, pulling something from his sleeve. “Yesterday, a homing pigeon delivered this secret letter from the chief palace guard. He said you were heading this way and that I should lock you up until he arrives.”

Chang shifted where he stood, agitated. “He couldn’t have known I was headed here!”

His former master regarded him patiently. “One of your companions is Cho Hak-ju’s mole. As such,” he leaned closer. “You must not let anyone know what we discussed.”

He trembled with the weight of it all, feeling like a cracked vase balanced on the edge of a table, one wrong move away from falling and shattering.

*******

Chang walked out with his head spinning. A mole amongst his companions? He would bet his title it was the magistrate, needing no other proof other than his family name: Cho. Be that as it may…he couldn’t be sure, could he? What if it was their guide, or the physician? Or…or Mu-yeong?

No, certainly not. It couldn’t be. He refused to consider the possibility that it was (or how he would handle it if it were so).

He vaguely heard his former master instruct a guard to find him a spare room, as well as another for his companions. He glanced over at Lord Ahn-Hyeon, who bowed respectfully, betraying nothing.

All of his friends stared at him expectantly as he walked down the steps. He couldn’t think straight, he needed to get out of here, he needed to find the mole, he needed—

His foot touched the ground and he nearly fell over, the full weight of everything that had happened hitting him at once. He hoped none of it showed.

Tomorrow. All that he would figure out tomorrow. Only Mu-yeong followed him, staring suspiciously at the guards.

“What did he say?” he asked.

“…He did not give me a definite answer.” That was…not really a lie. It just wasn’t the truth. Indeed Lord Ahn-Hyeon had never said ‘I will help you’, but Chang knew he would all the same.

_You mustn’t let anyone know what we discussed._

Mu-yeong glanced behind them to make sure no one was too close before leaning in close and whispered, “Can he be trusted?” When Chang gave him no answer, he went on. “Your Highness, he may still be mourning, but even when Lord Cho suppressed the scholars, Lord Ahn-Hyeon did nothing to help them.”

_Or me._

Chang refused to think further on it. His skin prickled unpleasantly as he ignored the urge to glance around, paranoia close to choking him.

“He could be in an alliance with Lord Cho—“

“Watch what you say,” Chang snapped defensively. “He is not one you speak lightly of.” On top of everything else, Chang could not deal with speculations.

“But, Your Highness—“

“Get some rest. You have not been able to these past few days.” And he left Mu-yeong in the courtyard.

*******

The instant the guards closed the door, Chang half fell onto the wood, ripping off his gat and tugging his robes open because he couldn’t fucking breathe (he knew well enough it it wasn’t tight clothing restricting his breath).

He leaned on one hand where he sat, the other on the bare skin of his chest as he focused on breathing and ignoring the raging mess of terror, guilt, and paranoia in his head.

_Rest. He needed to rest._

A bowl of water and clean clothes had been laid out for him. He stared at them, knowing he needed them but far too tired to do anything about it. He half dragged himself to the mat on the floor and fell fast asleep.

_Screaming monster, shrieking people, people crying out in pain, people dying people dying so many people dying Beom-Il dead on the floor that girl that girl that little girl—_

Chang woke up with a jolt, shaking and drenched in sweat, suddenly wide awake despite the exhaustion still weighing heavily on him. Judging by the position of the moon in the sky, he must not have been asleep for very long. He sat up slowly and ran a hand over his face, frustration making him restless.

_He should rest. He needed to rest._

Something moved outside his door and he was on his feet in a flash, sword drawn and held at the ready. He stood, completely still, listening. Waiting. For the monsters he knew were coming, come on you bastards, show yourselves—

A guard coughed out in the courtyard.

Sangju. He was in Sangju. Behind stone walls with hundreds of guard — _trained_ guards— watching for monsters in the night.

He shivered, ashamed of his fear.

 _Maybe Physician Lee had been right. Maybe he was crazy_.

He sheathed his sword and sat heavily on the floor next to his mat, dropping his head into his hands. It felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

_What is happening to me?_

_Faster run faster it’s almost got you run faster or you die you are GOING TO DIE—_

He jolted awake again as he almost tipped forward, having fallen asleep where he sat and leapt to his feet once more as the sound of a monster’s snarl rang in his ears.

Nothing. There was nothing there. He was still in Sangju and he was still safe.

No, there had _been_ something there, he had felt the thing’s breath on his neck—

And there he stood, in the middle of the room shaking like a fucking leaf. What a fine King he made.

_The monsters, the blood, the decay, his father the same way…_

He shook his head as though he could shake out the thought. It was increasingly obvious he would be getting no sleep that night.

But he also couldn’t sit still. He had folded himself into a comfortable seated position to begin thinking through how they would proceed in their mission to save the kingdom, only to find that the only thing he could think about was that it would be _so easy_ for something to sneak up behind him. He moved himself back against the wall, only to find that the corner of the room was too dark to see what was in it. Anything could be hiding there.

_Crazy, Chang, you’re going crazy!_

So he paced, sheathed sword in hand.

If he was lucky, perhaps he could tire himself out to the point where he was too exhausted to even dream.

As the night went on, he doubted it.

But the pacing did calm him down enough to quiet the feeling of panic in his chest. He had almost gotten to the point where the repetitive back and forth motion was meditative when _the door to his room opened_.

No one with good intentions would dare do that without knocking first.

The sharp sound of metal against scabbard rang through the air as he drew his sword to meet the threat, mentally preparing himself to attack when—

“Easy,” Yeong-shin said, holding his hands up in surrender, face perfectly calm but eyes still sharp.

It took Chang a minute to process that he did in fact know this man. He lowered his sword slightly as his exhausted brain caught up (at least his hand wasn’t shaking). Still, mistrustful after his conversation with his mentor, he did not re-sheathe his sword.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, putting on his best authoritative voice.

The other man was not impressed.“I came to check on you.”

Chang stared at him like he had antlers growing out of his ears. “To _check on me?_ ”

“Yes,” the man replied easily, leaning his gun against the doorframe and taking off his boots. “Forgive the sudden intrusion,” he added. “I didn’t think the guards would take kindly to me paying you a visit, so I didn’t bother them with it.”

Chang didn’t rightly give a shit. “And you decided my wellbeing was your direct concern when, exactly?”

“Since you’re likely the only reason the Lord of this town bothered to help us, and our best chance of continued aid,” Yeong-shin said, straightening up to look at him. “In any case, I found exactly what I was expecting to.”

Chang’s pride flared and he re-sheathed his sword a bit rougher than was good for the blade. “Your concern is noted but not needed. I am well.”

Yeong-shin looked him up and down, making a point to eye the freshly bleeding marks on his wrist. Chang hadn’t noticed himself scratching at them. “Is that right?”

Chang tugged he sleeve down to obscure them, well aware that he must have looked an absolute mess. He was thankful the room was at least dark enough to hide the flush he could feel burning on his face.

“Let me venture a guess,” the man said slowly. “And if I’m right, you let me advise you on how to fix it. Alright?”

Chang didn’t respond. It was far too late at night to put up with being read like a book, but he got the feeling he was going to hear it whether he liked it or not. As it happened, he was also far too exhausted to cause a commotion about it.

 _Listen, get it over with and then maybe he’ll leave you alone_ , said one part of his brain.

 _Since he’s Chakho, maybe he’ll actually have advice worth listening to_ , said another.

“You aren’t asleep because every time you close your eyes you keep seeing the people you killed. The dead kids at the clinic. The monsters. All those people who were alive one minute and dead the next.”

“Don’t presume to know anything about me,” Chang bit out, pride flaring hotly in his chest.

“Am I wrong though?”

He was far too tired to lie to save face. Far to tired to lie, and far too tired to sleep.

Yeong-shin went on. “That is, of course if you can sleep at all.”

_Hit the nail on the head there._

“You feel like you aren’t safe here, even though logically you know you are. You feel like you need to be doing something, but you can’t figure out what, so you’re pacing aimlessly.” He raised an eyebrow. “Am I correct?”

Chang eyed him, on edge, Mu-yeong’s words of caution whispering unpleasantly in the back of his mind.

The man nodded, taking Chang’s silence as affirmation. “Your body thinks you’re still out there, and there’s no convincing it that it’s not until it’s good and ready. But you _can_ make it shut up for a little bit.”

“How so?”

Yeong-shin’s face was unreadable in the night’s shadows. “You burn off the nervous energy.”

 _Bullshit_ , Chang thought. He was more exhausted than he had ever been in his life, what energy did he have to burn off?

Enough, he realized, as his fingers drummed impatiently on his thigh. Fine, he’d bite.

“By doing?”

Yeong-shin took several slow, easy steps towards him, eyes locked on Chang’s and, with a palm pressed flat against his chest, pushed him until his back hit the wall.

Chang’s hand was on his sword before he could think twice about it, the hilt slamming into Yeong-shin’s breastbone hard enough to bruise.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Chang damn near snarled.

Yeong-shin exhaled sharply at the impact, but otherwise didn’t react. “There are two ways to do it,” he explained patiently, his palm an oddly calming weight on Chang’s chest despite the adrenaline flooding his veins at the unexpected move. “The first is to fight. No rules, til someone doesn’t get back up. Quick, brutal, and messy. Great when it does work, terrible when it doesn’t. In my experience, most of the time it makes everything worse. It’s also very loud and would likely end with my head being separated from my shoulders by one of those guards out there.”

 _A well thought out analysis_ , Chang thought sullenly, feeling numb at the thought of having to fight again.

_Beom-Il’s head on the floor, seconds after he had almost torn Chang’s throat out with his teeth. For years, he had daydreamed of Beom-Il’s demise, oh how he had hated him, but now he was dead and Chang had killed him and this wasn’t at all how this was supposed to go, he hadn’t expected it to feel like this—_

“And the second?” Chang asked hastily, before he could lose himself in the unpleasant memory.

Yeong-shin studied him for a moment, his thumb brushing gently back and forth over Chang’s chest.

(In hindsight, Chang really should’ve guessed.)

But in the moment, for whatever reason, he didn’t see it coming. So Yeong-shin would just have to forgive him for jumping out of his skin at the sudden feeling of a hand on his cock.

Chang was woefully inexperienced for someone of his age and social status. He remembered most of the young boys in court clamoring to come of age to they could engage in ‘life’s pleasures’ as they called it. He remembered the lewd stories that would flit about the council chamber ever now and again as well as the downright vulgar anecdotes he overheard the guards discussing during the night shift.

He remembered well the day he had come of age. His father had brought him to the house where the royal concubines lived and had said what is mine is now yours.

Chang had taken a walk through the place after his father had left and quickly left himself, finding it decidedly not to his taste. (He didn’t trust servants to help him dress, how was he supposed to trust someone to do _that?_ )

He’d done it himself a few times and found it to be…alright, pleasant enough, but not really something he cared to spend any time on.

Ultimately, he’d always been far too concerned with _not dying mysteriously_ to care about something as base and trivial as sex. With women _or_ with men. (Whatever the court’s current views on relations between the sexes —they seemed to change with the tides— he himself had never really held a preference.)

One of his hands immobilized Yeong-shin’s wrist and he held the other forearm threateningly to Yeong-shin’s throat, readying himself to throw the man off him and fight him if he had to when he was struck with a sudden clarity.

The buzz, the cotton, the screaming…it was gone.

 _You can make it shut up for a little bit_.

“Easy,” Yeong-shin soothed. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

Chang was many things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. _This is your fault!_ Yeong-shin had shouted at him back at Jiyulheon. He was right of course, and as such Chang very much doubted that Yeong-shin thought too kindly of him. If he was anything like anyone else Chang had ever known, he would jump at the first chance to take revenge. At the same time, mistrust was exhausting and Chang was too tired for any of it.

“You presume too much,” he hissed in Yeong-shin’s face.

The man remained where he was, looking Chang in the eye. “You haven’t pushed me away yet.”

A fair point, Chang would concede.

“I’ve done it,” Yeong-shin nearly purred in his ear. “Everyone I’ve ever worked with has done it. There’s no shame in it. Those first few times you need _something_. Or all that shit,” he tapped on Chang’s temple. “Settles up here. And if it does that, it’ll never leave you alone.”

 _Too late_ , Chang thought bitterly. The hand at his groin began to massage him gently, send sparks of pleasure up his spine. It felt different when someone else did it, an insignificant part of his mind observed.

“Push me away,” the other man whispered. “Tell me no and I’ll leave. Hell, call those guards out there and you’ll never have to see my face again. You have all the power here.”

Chang would have to be stupid to accept an offer like this, of that he was well aware. All the same…the thought of going back to pacing alone in the dark, jumping out of his damn skin at every creaking board seemed unbearable. Yeong-shin was right, he needed _something_ damn it…

Yeong-shin pressed closer, letting go of him and wrapping one arm around his waist as his other hand brushed a strand of hair from Chang’s face that he hadn’t even noticed at fallen out.

“It works, I promise. I was skeptical too, the first time it was proposed to me. But it works.”

 _Yes_ , Chang acquiesced, still relishing in the silence in his head. _It appears that it does_.

“I know this looks like I’m trying to take advantage of you. That’s what I thought the first time, too. And unfortunately I’ve never figured out how to propose it well—“ Chang was only half listening, the feeling of a warm body pressed against his soothing him in a way nothing else had in years. “But I’m not trying to trick or purposefully put you in a bad situation. I’m trying to help you.”

 _Bullshit_.

_Imagine if the Cho’s found out about this._

_Assuming you live long enough for it to matter, that is._

He was going to do it, he decided, but he made himself care just a second longer out of sheer spite. “Why?”

Yeong-shin raised an eyebrow.

Chang elaborated, pressing his forearm against Yeong-shin’s throat to push him back enough to give Chang room to breathe. “Your disdain for people of a higher social class is obvious—“

“And in most cases warranted.”

“So why would you _help_ me, the _Crown Prince_ , of all people?”

_Especially considering what I’ve done._

To his surprise, Yeong-shin leaned _into_ his forearm, nearly choking himself. “Because as I said, you are our best hope of surviving this. Without you, the people have no hope of making it to safety. But for you to help them, you need to survive. And you won’t survive if your head is fucked up. You’ve already frozen twice in a fight. A third time, and your luck might just run out.”

Oh, he’d frozen more times than that. At least three times. Maybe four, if you counted the horror of seeing Dongnae up in flames.

“Besides,” Yeong-shin went on with a half smile. “Seo-bi was right. You are different. And we need that.”

Chang regarded him cautiously, well aware that he should consider that he was being played for a fool, flattered only to be taken out. For whatever ridiculous reason, though, he didn’t believe it.

“You’re taking an enormous risk.”

Yeong-shin shrugged with a hint of annoyance. “You don’t have to tell me that.”

Chang shook him, just a little. “ _Why?!”_

“ _Because_ ,” Yeong-shin hissed back. “You need it. Maybe I do too.”

Chang’s mind screamed that his was being stupid, naive, he had survived thirty years and all the mess of the past few days only to give in to something like this, to put himself in such a potentially precarious situation?

That was all true, he mused, and he did not give a single shit.

He could feel Yeong-shin’s arousal pressed against his thigh and his blood boiled with a potent mix of mistrust and base need for something he couldn’t quite understand _._

To hell with it.

He pushed the conflicting feelings aside. If it would keep the mess in his head quiet for the night, Yeong-shin could do whatever he wanted. Chang didn’t care.

“Fine,” he whispered, barely audible even in the quiet night.

The other man nodded slowly, curling a hand around the back of Chang’s neck. “Careful now,” he said. “It’s going to hit you like a ton of bricks.”

One minute they were standing upright and the next they were down on the ground. He slapped a hand on the ground to dispel the shock of the fall without thinking about the guards outside.

“Shhhh,” Yeong-shin reminded him gently. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

Chang seethed at being treated so fragilely, but voiced no complaint as Yeong-shin loomed over him, half straddling him as he ground a thigh between Chang’s.

The combination of everything did, in fact, feel good. _Very_ good.

He groaned sharply, hands flying up to grip Yeong-shin’s shoulders.

“There it is,” Yeong-shin murmured cheekily.

Chang ignored him and pulled him closer instead. The initial shock of pleasure passed and, though he found himself rather indifferent to the sexual touch in pursuit of pleasure _itself_ , the feeling of the other man’s weight on top of him made him feel, against all logic, _safe_.

And he loved feeling safe.

So he continued to let Yeong-shin do whatever the hell he wanted. As long as he could keep that feeling, he was happy enough.

At least until Yeong-shin tried to turn him onto his stomach, a move which left him feeling distinctly vulnerable, and he did not enjoy that. Not in the slightest.

“Hey, hey, it’s easier this way. Trust me—“ Yeong-shin tried to argue.

“I don’t care,” Chang hissed, holding Yeong-shin firmly away from him. “Not that way.”

The other man huffed a laugh, sounding almost a bit nervous. “I don’t think you understand how much this could potentially hurt you if we do it wrong.”

 _No, I don’t think_ you _understand_.

“Do it another way or get out.”

Yeong-shin relented. “Okay, like this,” he said, shifting so he was settled fully between Chang’s thighs. “Like this. Okay?”

Chang nodded, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding as he wormed his hands between their chests to pull open the other man’s tunic, craving bare skin. Yeong-shin not only let him, but did the same. 

Yeong-shin began to grind their hips together again, and Chang was struck by how _good_ it felt to have the other man’s solid weight fully between his thighs, to have someone’s hands in his hair, someone’s mouth on his neck.

 _This_ , he thought, wrapping his arms around Yeong-shin’s back and biting his tongue to stifle the involuntary sounds making their way out of his throat, _This is not so bad_. He could almost understand why people liked this so much. And the continued silence of his mind was even better.

Then Yeong-shin’s teeth grazed the side of his neck and he was knocked clean out of the pleasant haze.

_Monsters, yowling, running, danger, death, death everywhere, his fault his fault—_

Chang’s eyes snapped open and he shivered. Yeong-shin didn’t seem to notice as he pushed Chang’s robes up to bunch around his waist, hands falling to the ties on Chang’s pants.

He was vaguely aware of the other man looking him up and down, lust hot in his eyes. _What was taking him so long,_ he wondered, slightly annoyed. _Get on with it so the noise can leave me alone again_.

“What are you waiting for?” he asked when Yeong-shin made no further move to undress him.

“…Are you sure?”

It almost sounded like there was concern in his voice, but that couldn’t be true. Not after what Chang had done.

“Just do it.”

Yeong-shin pulled back further from him. “I’m not here to hurt you—“

 _Bullshit_.

In a flash of frustration and mounting anxiety over the rising noise in his head, Chang grabbed Yeong-shin by the hair and dragged him down so their faces were mere inches apart. “Just. Do. It.” he hissed.

Yeong-shin was not impressed as he jerked out of Chang’s grip. “I’m not here for violence,” he growled. “I think we’ve all had enough of that. You let me do it right or it doesn’t happen.”

Chang scoffed, but relented, an odd mix of feeling clogging up his chest. He only half paid attention as Yeong-shin wet his fingers and lowered them.

And Chang was, again, not nearly as naive as people seemed to think he was, so had he been more alert he would not have been at all surprised by the cold wet touch at his entrance, pushing inside him. As it happened though, distracted as he was, he was very surprised by it.

He smacked Yeong-shin’s hand away before he could really think about what he was doing. “Did you not hear me?” he growled. “Just get on with it!”

But the other man did not do that, much to Chang’s chagrin. Instead he asked more annoying questions Chang would rather not think to hard on.

“Do you actually want this?”

“Just—“

Yeong-shin cut him off. “No, answer the question. Do you want this? Yes or no?”

The truth was that he did not have a wealth of reasons to trust Yeong-shin, especially with an unknown traitor in their midst, and he almost turned him down then and there, before the threat of solitude and silence and the unending panic he had been submerged in for days stayed his hand.

_You can make it shut up for a while._

_You need it. Maybe I do too._

_You have all the power here_.

To _hell_ with his blasted paranoia!

“Yes, but I didn’t think it would take you a dynasty to do it.”

He saw a brief flash of annoyance pass over Yeong-shin’s face as he spat in his palm and slicked up his cock.

 _Finally_.

The feeling of a cock pressed up against him was, oddly enough, not wholly unpleasant.

Yeong-shin pushed into him then and Chang had not been expecting it to be comfortable, but it _hurt._ It hurt bad.

A hiss escaped him before he could stop it, and he clutched at Yeong-shin’s shoulders, eyes squeezed shut as his eyes stung with tears of pain. He felt Yeong-shin pause above him, no doubt ready to ask more annoying questions, so he held Yeong-shin’s hips tightly with his thighs and pulled him deeper in, bitting his cheek hard enough to bleed.

Yeong-shin rested his forehead on Chang’s shoulder, he breath coming in sharp puffs. “Did that hurt?” Chang heard him murmur.

He shook his head slowly, not wholly enjoying the pain but not exactly hating it either.

And then Yeong-shin’s mouth was on his throat and he was moving inside him. Everything was still quiet, the pain driving away everything bad that had ever happened to him so maybe the awful burning wasn’t actually all that terrible.

“Easy,” Yeong-shin murmured. “Relax, I’ve got you.”

It still hurt enough to dissuade Chang from opening his eyes for fear that he would tear up and that Yeong-shin would see and stop, but the rest of the sensations —Yeong-shin’s mouth on his throat, his weight securely on him, the feeling of his hair between Chang’s fingers, the bunching of his muscles under his shirt— felt good. Felt more than good.

Chang moved with him, beginning to enjoy the easing slide of the man’s cock inside him as he ignored his mind’s insistence that something wasn’t right, that it shouldn’t hurt this bad, that the slide shouldn’t be getting easier with each thrust.

It was nothing Chang wasn’t letting him do, so he didn’t care.

Yeong-shin shushed him gently again as he moaned softly, covering his mouth with a hand, his lips just grazing the shell of Chang’s ear when Chang felt a swell of revulsion overcome him.

Yeong-shin was _being gentle with him_.

Oh no. Chang did not want that. He did not deserve that and he did not want it. Besides, the pain was fading away and with it went Chang’s newly established peace of mind. So he bit the hand covering his mouth. Hard.

Yeong-shin wrenched his hand away and reared back, shooting Chang a reproachful look.

 _“Harder,”_ Chang hissed at him.

Yeong-shin frowned and opened his mouth, no doubt to object, when Chang cut him off.

“If you’re going to fuck me, do it right. I said _harder_.”

Yeong-shin’s eyes glinted as he regarded Chang before he fell back onto him and gave him exactly what he asked for.

Chang grabbed hard to Yeong-shin’s shoulders at the first rough thrust, muffling a sharp cry in his shoulder because _that hurt_. And, to his surprise, it felt _so good_.

Yes, Chang mused as Yeong-shin settled into a hard quick rhythm. Yes, Yeong-shin was right. This worked.

It had been years since he had felt so alive. He grinned, a hand in Yeong-shin’s hair as the man bit bruises into his collarbone to muffle his own increasingly desperate noises. Each one sent sparks of pleasure up Chang’s spine and he _loved it_ and it still hurt, but he couldn’t have cared less because his mind was blissfully blank and that was all that mattered to him.

A small, insignificant part of him wondered what it might be like to kiss the other man, but no. Enough lines had been crossed already that night.

Yeong-shin pressed a hand to Chang’s thigh and hiked his leg up higher on his waist, changing the angle and making Chang bite hard into Yeong-shin’s neck to keep quiet as he ground his cock up against Yeong-shin’s stomach. _Shit_ , he was close.

“Go on,” Yeong-shin murmured in his ear, voice rough with pleasure. “Go on, I’ve got you. I’ve got you, _your Highness_.”

Yeong-shin had never addressed him with his title before, and something about that was both too much and _just right_ and Chang was coming between them with a groan muffled into Yeong-shin’s shoulder.

 _Yes_ , Yeong-shin had been right about this. His head hadn’t felt so clear in years.

Boneless, he relaxed back onto the floor as Yeong-shin straightened up, gripping his hips and gazing down at him, eyes half lidded with lust. Chang shut his eyes and enjoyed the rough slide of the other man’s cock inside him as Yeong-shin’s hips stuttered briefly before he pulled out—

While it took Chang a moment to recognize that something was wrong, he figured it out quick enough when he realized that Yeong-shin had gone painfully silent.

He opened his eyes and lifted his head to see what was the matter, and saw it immediately, even in the dark.

There was blood on Yeong-shin’s cock. And a good bit of it. Cued in to his own injury, Chang felt it then. The sharp sting, the deep ache when he shifted even a little bit.

“I hurt you…” Yeong-shin whispered, eyes wide with sheer horror. “Why didn’t you tell me I was hurting you?!” When Chang failed to respond quick enough, Yeong-shin grabbed him by the front of his robes and hauled him up to eye level. Chang let him. “ _Why didn’t you tell me I was hurting you?”_

Oh, he must be afraid, Chang thought distantly. “You won’t be harmed if that’s what you’re afraid of. I let you do it.”

Yeong-shin let go of him as if he were burned and Chang’s upper body fell back to the floor. “I _told_ you I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Chang caught himself on an elbow as he fell, glaring reproachfully at the other man. “And I _said_ I didn’t stop you. I didn’t notice—“

“Like hell you didn’t.” Yeong-shin’s voice shook.

Chang stared at him, flabbergasted. “I _let_ you, _what’s the problem?_ ”

Yeong-shin reeled away from him. “ _I didn’t come here for violence!”_

Chang stayed where he was, spread out like a common whore. Perhaps it was fitting.

“I get it,” Yeong-shin finally whispered, staring at the floor _._ “You thought that this would somehow make up for it? Right? For everything that’s happened? Those _people_ , those _kids_. That letting someone else hurt you would absolve you of their deaths?”

Chang didn’t respond. What could he possibly have said?

“Well, it won’t,” Yeong-shin hissed, still not looking at him. “Nothing will. You’ve been to war now and you have to live with it like the rest of us. People die and they die badly and it’s your fault and you can’t fix it. Nothing you do to yourself will fix it. You can’t punish yourself in any way that will change what happened, that will bring them all back. The sooner you learn that, the better chance you have of surviving it. You _owe it_ to all of those people to survive it!”

Chang remained silent as the grave (ha) as he listened to Yeong-shin righting his clothes angrily and moving towards the door.

“ _Violence_ doesn’t _fix_ anything!” the other man hissed before leaving as inconspicuously as he came.

Completely and utterly alone in the night once again, Chang curled into himself against a sudden onslaught of _shame_ that nearly choked the breath out of him.

He fell asleep like that and, mercifully, stayed that way.

*******

He woke up the following morning just as the morning light began to peak over the horizon feeling like he had been trampled by a thousand horses.

No, he remembered dully. He’d just been fucked and had fucked it up, likely alienating one of the most valuable members of their little group in doing so.

 _Fool_ , he thought bitterly as he dragged himself to his feet and set about cleaning himself up before anyone else came in and saw him debauched as he was.

_The Crown Prince must always look decent and confident._

_And the King…_

Chang shuddered. The midnight fog of residual fear and bone-deep exhaustion gone from the forefront of his mind, he was hit fully by the stupidity of what he had done.

The King slept with a man, a man who could possibly be a mole for the Haewon Cho clan, _had allowed himself to be taken by a member of the peasant class—_

What would Lord Ahn Hyeon think of him now?

Fool.

Washed clean (he hoped the bloodshed of the past few days would be enough to explain the amount that stained the cloths) he actually found himself beginning to feel like something of a human again.

Of course, that was before Mu-yeong came in and reminded him that someone amongst them was a traitor (as if he needed reminding).

Obviously it was the Cho magistrate. Obviously. Unless…

_Unless it was the man who just fucked you._

It would make sense that the Cho mole would jump at such a chance to humiliate his prey. A damn shame, he thought miserably, that none of that had mattered to him the previous night. Because he’d thought of it, he’d just been too foolish to—

_Enough. What’s done is done._

He focused on cleaning his sword (it used to be Beom-Il’s). The smooth motion of running the cloth up the blade, it’s fresh shine (how many had it killed in just a few days?)

…Unhelpful.

“Your Highness!” Mu-yeong lamented with barely concealed panic. Chang spared his friend an expressionless glance. The other man knelt in front of him, staring intently, _pleading_ with him to listen. “You cannot trust anyone! We must leave this place!”

Chang shifted ever so slightly and barely managed to hide a wince as pain shot up his spine, briefly silencing the growing mess in his head even if it did drudge up more feelings of shame.

_Violence doesn’t fix anything._

He was still _so_ tired…

He went back to cleaning his sword without responding.

“Crown Prince Lee Chang! Come out at once!”

Ah, yes. He had almost forgotten he was expecting company.

Mu-yeong went out first. Chang was almost amused by the look of complete and utter disbelief etched on his friend’s face. Chang himself felt more numb than he had even the previous day. He was going to have to kill them, he knew. Watch them die, because they had been tasked with coming to look for him. More dead, because of him, and that threatened to blow him clean out of his body. The only thing keeping him in the present was the spikes of pain brought on by each step (Yeong-shin may have left out a few things, but overall he had been right).

“You have come a long way,” the guard drawled cockily. “It’s time to return to Hanyang.”

The guards moved with bind him and drag him off to prison as their commander thanked Lord Ahn Hyeon, who had just appeared, for guarding the prisoner. The sounds of their footsteps were drowned out by the slash of Mu-yeong’s blade as he leapt in front of Chang, shouting for them to stay back, desperation turning his deep shout into something resembling a shriek.

Chang’s frozen, bitter heart warmed just a little. _The ancestors be praised,_ he thought. _You are not the traitor._

Lord Ahn Hyeon posed the question of who exactly was the traitor. And then Chang watched them die as his vision blurred around the edges.

 _I can’t take much more of this_ , a tiny voice in the back of his mind murmured. He shut it out as he took the sword from a flabbergasted Mu-yeong and strode forward, not feeling at all like himself. What was ‘himself’ anymore?

“None of you will survive. Not a single one!” the chief palace guard snarled, his blood drenching the dirt beneath him and staining his lips as he spoke. It must have been agonizing, Chang thought, to be stuck with so many arrows and still be standing. It was only humane that he put him out of his misery.

The blade cut cleanly through cloth and flesh, and Chang didn’t feel a damn thing.

Perhaps that was a good thing, seeing as they were under siege.

*******

The soldiers had blocked them in. Chang would have felt more than a little concerned about the state of the government had they not been threatened by hundreds of undead monsters seeing as a good portion of Sangju’s high ranking officials did not understand that the soldiers did not do so simply to stop Chang.

Word of their predicament had spread to the people, who were now mobbing the front gate, begging to be let in. And Chang let them in. Of course he did. And he relieved all those who disagreed with him of their government positions for good measure.

Dongnae would not happen again. Not while Chang still drew breath.

They put together a plan, taking advantage of Sangju’s mountainous and swampy borders, and designed barricades to protect the few roads that weren’t either mountain or swamp. They already knew the monsters couldn’t swim, and if Jiyulheon was any evidence, they couldn’t climb either.

Yes, this just might work.

Sangju’s remaining officials scurried away to carry out Chang’s orders while Chang himself stayed behind for just a moment as his head started to grow fuzzy. Air, he needed air. He shifted on his feet and hissed at the stab of pain in his ass.

It cleared his head out well enough and he relaxed a bit, leading his head drop ever so slightly. It was then that he realized he hadn’t seen Yeong-shin all day. He didn’t have time to wonder if that was a good thing or a bad thing before he was startled by a hand tugging up his collar.

He jumped, ready to defend himself against whatever palace guard or rogue monster they had missed, only to set his eyes on Lord Ahn Hyeon.

His mentor held up his hands calmly as Chang got ahold of himself.

“Forgive me for startling you, your Highness,” he said calmly. “However I thought you might wish those marks on your neck to be discreetly covered.”

Chang’s blood ran cold and he shivered, shame rendering him speechless, though it had only been a matter of time, he supposed.

Lord Ahn Hyeon clasped his hands behind his back and looked out over the valley with a deep sigh. “Do what you feel you need to, but I hope you will take a bit of advice from an old man. It doesn’t help, my son. Like that, it will only make it worse.”

Chang’s brain was still struggling to catch up as his mentor bowed lower than usual, perhaps in an apology for stepping out of turn, and took his leave.

*******

Chang saw Yeong-shin again just after mid day. Chang had been overseeing the construction of the blockades and had glanced over to find the tiger-hunter teaching a group of men how to shoot.

Chang couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the man’s appearance. While he normally looked like he hadn’t tended to his personal care in weeks, that afternoon he looked especially bad. He clearly hadn’t fixed his hair after Chang had had his hands in it the night before, and he didn’t seem to have slept at all. Exhaustion made his normally confident and prepared posture slack and his skin sallow in the afternoon light. Briefly, he noticed the prince looking over at him and went out of his way to avoid meeting Chang’s eyes. Before, he had never been afraid to address Chang directly.

_Alienated much?_

Chang shook his head and turned back to his own task. Mentally, he kicked himself for his behavior. It was nothing he hadn’t consented to, why had he reacted so strongly after the fact? And what the hell had Yeong-shin been expecting? What should he have been expecting, were Chakho really so soft? The whole thing, ill-fated from the start, he should never have agreed to it…

All the same, he didn’t regret it.

He bit the inside of his cheek and pushed the thoughts away. He had more important things to think about.

*******

He stood atop the barricades, sword in hand, as the sun sank below the horizon. Apprehension prickled in his gut as he oversaw the final preparations made.

He watched as Yeong-shin and the other men trained to shoot were pushed out into the pond on their raft, the man looking up at him as they floated out. Chang’s mouth twitched in a half smile, a twinge of what may have been affection echoing in his chest. A small part of him was grateful he would be away from what was likely to be a bloodbath.

 _You have lost your damn mind_ , the rest of him shouted, aghast. _That’s more ill-fated than garnering affection for one of your father’s prostitutes._

Probably true.

Thankfully, the messenger’s horse (painfully devoid of the messenger) returned at that time, only a hand still holding on the reins in a…well, a death grip.

He ordered the pyres (perhaps not the correct word, but a fitting one nevertheless) lit. And then they waited.

It was the longest night of Chang’s life, even longer than the night he had spent in Jiyulheon. It was also the quietest. No one spoke, no one even moved. The night was eerily devoid of even the sounds of wildlife. The men’s sigh of relief as the sun rose seemed almost unbearably loud.

Chang smiled and breathed a sigh of relief as well, his breath visible in the cold morning air.

The men came down from their ramparts, pulled the sharpshooters in from the pond, and prepared themselves to rest before remaking their defenses for the coming night.

Chang too, made to follow, before something bid him turn around. He watched, slightly unnerved, as a flock of birds took off in the distance, black silhouettes against a rising cloud of dust.

It sounded like a thousand horses….

The rest of the men realized it when he did. Their shouts of panic permeated the air as they scrambled back to their positions. This wasn’t possible, it was _daylight_ , they couldn’t…

It didn’t matter. They were coming, and the people of Sangju were woefully unprepared.

_So this is where we die._


	2. Catharsis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeong-shin's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Note* As of 3/22/2020 this chapter has been COMPLETELY rewritten, as in almost nothing is the same
> 
> Gratuitous smut and a Chakho's internal monologue. I do hope you have enjoyed and continue to enjoy reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it

*******

Violence in its many forms had been a part of Yeong-shin’s life for as long as he could remember. Poverty, hunger, oppression, war, his chosen line of work, he got…used to it is the wrong word. _Numb_ to it, yes that was better.

He spit into the dirt off the porch he was sitting on. His shoulder ached. The soup they gave him wasn’t even edible. He ate it anyway. He’d survived poverty, illness, war, and injury. Like hell if _starvation_ would kill him now.

Some of the others just weren’t there yet. The old man on the floor over there pacified the doctor pressing him to eat a few more bites with a promise that he would finish it later, after a short rest.

_How many people here speak those as their final words?_

He scoffed at the sentiment and kicked his bowl away, lounging against a post.

“You call this food? This’ll kill ‘em before disease ever has a chance.”

The physician fixed him with a hard, blank look. “The government promised to send us some rice soon.”

“As if they ever would!” Yeong-shin drawled, cracking a humorless smile. “Dozens of people die every day waiting for that rice, and yet here we all sitand continue to wait, _ever hopeful_.”

The physician regarded him coolly as she skipped over a few patients to tend to him next. He fixed her with a shit-eating smile. She stared at him as she tightened the bandage on his shoulder, jerking it roughly and making him hiss as pain shot through the joint.

He caught her by the wrist, definitely so he could prevent her from aggravating his wound further and not because, for a brief second, he thought he saw a knife in her hand.

“What are you doing?” he breathed, humor gone in a flash.

“Those people will get sicker if they don’t eat, so believe what you want, but watch your mouth. _You_ don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to.” She looked down at his shoulder disdainfully. “That ox must have had pretty strange horns to give you a wound shaped like that. Must have been very…flat.”

_Not an ox, not a tiger either. A comrade he had slighted somehow. Sure, why not stab someone in the back over it. That was just how things worked anymore._

Yeong-shin stared right back at her, betraying nothing. “Yeah. Definitely drew the short straw that day didn’t I? Since you brought it up, when does Physician Lee get back? I came all the way here to see him.”

“Physician Lee has gone to Hanyang. As I told you yesterday as well as the day before that, I don’t know when he’ll be back. Until then, rest. Didn’t anyone ever tell you wounds heal faster when you shut your trap?”

She left him alone then, thoroughly chastened. He focused on rewrapping his hands so no one could see how his face burned.

_One point for you then, doctor._

*******

The boy’s name was Dan-i. The other staff cried like they’d lost their brother. In a sense they had.

Yeong-shin’s stone heart ached just a bit for them before it hardened again. Under the current regime, this is just how things went for the common people and there wasn’t a fucking thing anyone could do about it.

Yeong-shin couldn’t identify the piece of root that showed up in his soup for breakfast the day after they buried the boy.

Like he said, inedible.

He ate it anyway, cursing the magistrates in towns in their fancy clothes and their padded guts while Yeong-shin could count every one of his ribs. That was better than the young boy across the yard, who could count every bone in his body. Yeong-shin looked over at the old man on the floor. He’d only woken up once that day.

His breathing was rattling, sharp, and irregular. He would die soon. Yeong-shin had only been there a matter of days and he had already learned the sound of how someone breathed right before they slowly died.

God, he hated that sound.

An idea struck him. An idea that, three years ago, would have disgusted him. But he wasn’t the same person he was three years ago was he?

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t done —been forced to do, had no other choice save death but to do— such a thing before. The thought made him gag, but he forced the feeling away.

Once again, it was between that and starving to death. What the people didn’t know couldn’t hurt them.

It would hurt him, sure. Some small, far away, insignificant part of him would bleed and cry but that part of him didn’t matter anymore because it was weak. It didn’t matter that he would hurt, he could take it, so everyone else could eat a decent meal for once.

So he snuck out before dawn and dug up the body. He waited until the physicians left to search for herbs, butchered it, and cooked it, same as he would a deer.

He felt as if he were a foot behind his body as he did, but that didn’t bother him because anymore he always felt like that.

He told them it was a deer and none of them questioned it. At least until that one physician, Seo-bi, got back.

She dragged him into the shed and beat the tar out of him, slapping at him and shoving him around, all the while yelling about how horrible he was for doing this.

He let her. She couldn’t hurt him even if she wanted to and if this was really the first time she had encountered such a thing (he found that hard to believe), it was probably all very shocking for her.

He let her, and explained in very small words that everyone there had probably already eaten a neighbor who died to survive. She didn’t have to do it, no, she was more than welcome to sit around like the Confucian scholars and debate morality until the whole population was dead.

“But I’m going to survive. I’m not going to wait around for people to deign to treat me like a human being. I’m a doer. Doers get things done. Now are you going to eat or aren’t you?”

She just stared at him then. She could think of no argument to make because there wasn’t one and she knew that. The very fact that she hadn’t called him out in front of the entire clinic as soon as she figured it out told him she already knew that. If she needed to smack somebody around to work through that knowledge, well that was fine with Yeong-shin.

Something hit the door then, left a pool of blood on the ground, and everything went to hell in a handbasket.

*******

Objectivity. That’s what had saved Yeong-shin’s sanity and therefore life during the horror show that had been his existence since he was conscripted.

Look at the problem like it isn’t yours. Work it out. When it’s in the past, let it die. You did what you had to do. That’s how he made it through.

(That was the only reason he made it through.)

Now, he clung to it like a lifeline as he chopped bamboo stalks into spears and prayed to a whole slew of gods he didn’t believe in that Seo-bi would figure out a cure for whatever had turned a group of critically ill people into bloodthirsty monster.

_You know what turned them._

_Your f—_

Fifty poles should make for a good addition to the defenses already set up. Now to set them up.

When he returned, the bodies were gone and he was running full tilt towards Dongnae before he could think twice.

“I’m who you’re looking for!” he shouted, blowing past the crowd that had gathered and taking out three, four, five guards in his attempt to burn the monsters they had laid out respectfully.

Many would call what he did a sin. He didn’t care. He despised the amount of care people showed for the dead that they couldn’t bring themselves to show for the living.

It took six guards to hold him down as he screamed at the people _please please let them burn!_

Two swords at his throat, he tried to explain to the Dongnae leadership that those people were not dead, to _at least_ put the bodies in a cell and lock the door and see for themselves when the sun set, but they wouldn’t listen.

They threw him and Seo-bi, who appeared out of nowhere to plead the same case as he, into cells instead.

That night was all a bit of a blur (in all his years, for all his battles and fights, he had never gotten any better at remembering them).

Only one thing stuck in his head, and that was the feeling of the young mother gripping his hand as he used every ounce of what was left of his depleted strength to try and pull her to safety. The feeling of her nails cutting divots into the back of his hand as the monsters tore into her legs. The sound of her begging him for help as someone grabbed her baby off her back and yelled at Yeong-shin to drop her.

He held on as long as he could. She was as good as dead, but he wasn’t going to leave her to die alone.

The monsters ripped her away from him then and the sight of her falling into their clutches and the sound of her sudden silence drove a wedge straight through the center of his stone cold heart.

He stood there, panting from exertion, for a long time. 

They blamed it all on him the next day (they were right). What really made him roll his eyes about that though was that they said he hadn’t told them about the monsters.

Seo-bi stepped in. She knelt beside him and agreed to tell them everything.

“They were the ill and Jiyulheon and their families,” she began.

Yeong-shin took a deep breath and braced himself, enjoying the feeling of the sun on his neck. _Time to be hung out to dry._ Once she told them what he had done, he doubted he would live much longer.

“When they could not withstand the hunger, they ate a body and became monsters…”

Yeong-shin didn’t hear the rest of what she said. _She...covered for me. She protected me. She…_

In that one sentence, she had won his loyalty for life. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had protected him. He wouldn’t soon forget it.

But the gentry weren’t done. Yeong-shin and Seo-bi knelt there and let the men scream at them. Why didn’t you bury the bodies or do this or do that or _warn us…_

“My Lord,” the councilman rambled. “You must punish them—“

“I am fine with being punished for my crimes,” he finally said. “But we _must_ burn the bodies first.”

Wrong answer. Couldn’t possibly do that. Not even to save the lives of the living.

Fucking—

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a tall man in purple striding towards them, heard the man speak in a deep voice that commanded respect. He watched as the unknown man walked up and without missing a beat punched the councilman in the face.

_Oh_. Yeong-shin would’ve laughed out loud if he hadn’t been so shocked. And impressed.

The man drew his sword like a master and held it to the sniveling fool’s throat, demanding to know why he signed the death warrants of thousands the night before by refusing to allow them into the barracks. 

“W-who did you say you were again?” the disgrace of a magistrate asked timidly. The unknown man tossed a green identity tag to the ground in front of him (was that _jade?!_ ) and Yeong-shin watched as every ounce of color drained out of the magistrate’s face.

“IT IS AN HONOR TO GREET THE CROWN PRINCE!”

… _Oh._

Yeong-shin sat, frozen as a chorus of gasps circled the courtyard.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! HE IS THE CROWN PRINCE!” the magistrate shouted, bowing down on the ground.

Yeong-shin, slow and reluctant to bow to anyone beyond a respectful dip of the head, did so eventually, if only for the fine punch the _prince_ had delivered.

To his surprise, the prince did not demand accolades. He immediately laid out a plan for all bodies to be burned regardless of status, and additional military and material support to be sent for.

“I understand that this is difficult, but we must focus on saving those who are still alive.”

_Couldn’t have said it better myself._

It was impossible not to listen to him. Never in his life had Yeong-shin heard someone speak so compellingly. It allowed, just for a brief second, for the faintest glimmer of hope to sprout in Yeong-shin’s frozen heart.

He snorted. _No, no way. A pretty royal who speaks pretty words. An easy enough game to play. He’ll never follow through on it. They never do._

He wouldn’t be there to see it one way or another because they threw him in a cell to wait for his punishment.

Late into the day he heard yelling and screaming. A guard tossed him the keys to his cell and he ran after them just in time to see the Dongnae gentry sail away into the sunset. Bitterness curled in his chest when a little girl asked quietly when their ship would come get them.

Everyone else fell silent, too heartbroken at the child’s question to utter a sound.

The prince and his guard came running down the bridge just in time to see the ship pass fully out of the cove and onto the river.

“What is that ship and who is on it?” the guard asked sharply, but the exhausted air to his voice told Yeong-shin that he already suspected the truth.

Yeong-shin answered. “Military commanders and high officials of Dongnae. They all left on that ship and left us to clean up the bodies. Once the sun sets—“ his voice caught, the image of the dying mother slipping from his grasp flashing before his eyes before he could stop it. “The monsters will wake up again,” he finished.

_Guilt. Guilty. That’s what he felt._

The ships, the barracks, they were all gone. There was nowhere to hide.

_“_ Except Jiyulheon!” Seo-bi offered. “The defenses there still stand.”

“Then we will go there,” the prince said. “Anyone who can walk will walk. The sick and the elderly will be carried on carts.”

“Hurry to Jiyulheon!” the guard commanded. The people obeyed.

Everything went downhill remarkably quickly after that. It was later in the day than they thought, and the woods were dark once they entered. The monsters were already stirring.

Yeong-shin scooped the nearest unaccompanied child into his arms and ran as fast as he could. He left the young boy at the clinic and turned around to go back and help because the carts weren’t following the crowd of people.

If he could help he would help. To hell with whatever happened to him.

_Your f—_

One of the carts was stuck and to his utter astonishment, it was the prince alone who was trying to get it out.

His guard followed on Yeong-shin’s heels upon realizing the prince was not in fact right behind him. The three of them pulled and tugged and lifted with all their might, but the cart wouldn’t budge. Yeong-shin tried not to listen to the hisses and growls of the monsters growing ever louder behind him.

_Focus on your task. To hell with what happens to you._

The guard begged the prince to flee. “Your Highness, you must go!”

The prince stared, wide eyed at the creatures, before running to the back of the cart to lift. “What are you doing?” he shouted. “Push!”

“Your Highness, we don’t have time! You must go!”

“I am different! I am different from those who abandoned these people and I am different from the Haewon Cho clan. _I will never abandon these people!_ ”

Noblemen weren’t supposed to be strong enough to lift carts out of potholes. Most couldn’t even dress themselves, let alone do something lifesaving like that.

The prince was strong enough.

Something else, something he hadn’t felt in years, if ever, bloomed in his fractured heart as he cart finally lifted up and out of the hole. He didn’t have time to dwell on it as he lifted the four elderly people into the wagon and then they were running for their lives, a swarm of monsters following close behind him.

Horse’s reins in his hands, Yeong-shin ran faster than he ever had in his life.

One came down a hill in front of them, bounced off the horse, and took out the city guard pushing the cart. The clatter of a rifle hitting the ground reached Yeong-shin’s ears and he was turning on a dime to go back for it before he even realized he was doing it.

Barely, just barely, he got away from the horde and leapt onto the back of the cart.

He used the sound of his heart pounding in his ears to calm him down as he began the familiar motions of loading a gun with a bloodthirsty monster staring him down.

This he had been trained to do. This he could do and he could do it well.

_Tigers were scarier_ , he told himself as he aimed. _Tigers are smart. These things are not._

The truth of that statement was irrelevant. It’s focusing effect was all he was looking for.

A snarl in his right ear brought his attention away from the horde just in time to shoot a monster point blank in the face a mere second before it tore out the prince’s throat. It blew out the prince’s right eardrum too, but that was better than being dead.

The prince flinched away hard from both the monster and the gunshot, but he tossed Yeong-shin a vaguely impressed look as blood ran down the side of his neck from his ear.

Yeong-shin would apologize for that later.

He cracked the prince a quick smile and reloaded, motions well practiced as he concentrated on the sound of his heart in his ears to drown out the yowls of the monsters and keep his focus.

He shot another and it fell, tripping a good chunk of the monsters following behind it. Another ran at them, faster than the others. He finished reloading and took his aim. He pulled the trigger.

The clank of a misfiring gun (the toll of the grim reaper’s bells, the Chakho used to call it) and a terrible chill ran down his spine, freezing him solid. He could do nothing but watch as the thing leapt for the prince’s neck.

The middle-aged guard, who could already move with an agility that surprised Yeong-shin, executed a truly astonishing spin and decapitated the monster before it could lay a finger on the prince.

To Yeong-shin’s further amazement, the prince ran back for him, dragging the guard to his feet before racing to the door. They made it just in time.

Yeong-shin let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

*******

After a tense night of waiting, jumping at every bang on the door, morning came and they set about cleaning up the old clinic to be quasi-livable for the immediate future. Yeong-shin made a ball out of rope for the four kids to play with before he set about cleaning his newly acquired gun.

Sweet things, kids. He’d do just about anything to make one smile.

He and his Chakho colleagues were obsessive about keeping their rifles in high working order. Whether or not your rifle worked decided whether you lived or died on any given day.

Chakho weren’t generally religious. They had no creed and no master, save their own skill. In that sense, cleaning their weapons was their form of meditation or prayer.

As he did so, he thought on the strange icy feeling that had run down his spine and frozen him the previous night on the cart. It had been years since he had experienced such a feeling.

He was not so foolish to deny that he felt fear, as many of his former colleagues were prone to. He felt it well enough, at least the kind that lit your blood on fire, made you faster and, with enough training and practice, gave you a hardline, unshakeable focus.

He hadn’t felt the kind of fear that froze you since his first battle with the army.

_So why, suddenly, did he feel such fear upon seeing the prince’s life in imminent danger? Why him? Why now?_

He frowned as he cleaned the barrel of the gun. That was troubling. He could have at least tried to use those precious seconds he spent frozen to fix the misfired rifle in an attempt to shoot it again. If the guard hadn’t acted so quickly, it could’ve meant the prince’s life.

He was pulled from his pondering when the elders present bid them all line up, the oldest man (one of those the prince had stayed behind to save the night before) front and center. Yeong-shin obeyed but hung towards the back.

The guard brought the prince, who had disappeared into a back room for the duration of the morning (Yeong-shin shook his head. A rookie mistake to be alone with your thoughts after an experience like the past few days) before them.

The eldest Dongnae citizen thanked him over and over for saving them, and the rest of the townspeople echoed him, all bowing deeply.

Instead of looking proud, like most noblemen would in the face of genuine praise from the people in the place of toneless cries of ‘ _we thank you for your boundless generosity’_ (Yeong-shin could vomit), he just looked sick.

“Treat the wounded and prepare some food, for the people” was all he said to his guard, his voice rough as gravel. He dipped his head once to the people, not looking up from the ground, before he disappeared back into the room he had come from. Through the half broken down wall, Yeong-shin could hear the sound of vomiting.

He sat back down and continued to check over his rifle.

_Been there, done that._

The prince reappeared about an hour later looking even more exhausted than before but still in one piece. Good for him. Yeong-shin watched from across the yard as he and his guard conversed on the deck.

The entire yard froze solid as one of the kids kicked the ball and bounced it off the prince’s back. He watched, apprehensive, as the prince jumped, whirling around to see what had hit him and relaxing when he saw it was only a ball and not a monster.

“Bring those children to me,” rang across the yard.

“Your Highness…” the guard said helplessly as the prince disappeared briefly back into the side room.

Yeong-shin frowned, dread looming over his rapidly shriveling heart. _So much for champion of the people. All of you are exactly the same._

Children lined up, the prince came back out. Yeong-shin looked on, bitter apathy borne of powerlessness chilling him to the bone as one little girl sobbed that they should be killed for what they did. How absurd that a child playing should be cause for death.

He couldn’t see the prince’s face as he held something out to the little girl. She took it from him carefully.

“W-what is it?” she sniffled.

“It’s food.”

Yeong-shin’s breath caught in his throat as a sudden warmth overwhelmed him with such force it surprised him.

He watched, overcome with a whirl of emotions he had no name for, as the prince gave each child a piece of dried meat and handed them back their ball before giving the rest of his own food to his guard to give to the people.

He watched as the prince shied away from the people’s thanks, sitting down on the deck where he could see the goings on, but was out of the way.

That warmth stayed with him as he tasted the first bit of real food he’d had in months. Was it hope?

Might’ve been.

_This one. This one is different._

“What will you do now?” he overheard the guard ask the prince a while later.

“I will go to Lord Ahn Hyeon in Sangju.”

Sangju.

Yeong-shin shivered, briefly. He hated that place, he hated it and everyone in it, but…

But.

He stood up after a moment of hesitation, picked up his rifle, and walked over to the two men. He even bowed when he got there.

“What do you want?” the guard asked sternly.

“I am from Sangju,” he said, looking at the prince as he spoke. “If you with to go to Sangju…I will be your guide.” He ducked his head as he finished the sentence, involuntarily shivering at the thought of going back there to—

_It doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago._

_Not long enough._

The prince regarded him tiredly as the guard spoke. “How can we trust you? Who are you, exactly?”

… _Oh._

“I am merely one of the people,” he said after a pause, looking at the ground as an uncharacteristic nervousness made him shift on his feet.

“Then how do you know how to shoot a gun?”

_Shit_.

The prince’s eyes on him made him jittery.

“I learned while serving in the war.”

The guard’s gaze burned. “You shot a monster directly in the forehead as it charged you. Your skills are better than most soldiers.”

_Fuck._

“Who are you?”

He had no answers left to give except the truth, which if the way the guard was looking at him was anything to go by, he already knew it.

Luckily for him and unluckily for everyone else there, things went to shit before he was forced to give an answer.

The prince was, apparently, a traitor to the crown (how did that even work, sounded like stupid gentry politics to him), and a company of guards had come to arrest him. Rather than wait for the prince to make a move, they shot arrows over the walls.

Yeong-shin didn’t wait for the arrows to hit the ground, he knew what the flick of arrows firing off sounded like. He grabbed the nearest child and high-tailed it out of there, pulling as many people with him as he could, and listened to his rapid heartbeat instead of the terrified screams around him.

Thirteen. Thirteen out of thirty made it brief safety behind the primary building. Everyone else was shot down.

He turned and watched as the guard bodily dragged a dazed prince off the deck and behind the wall before hurriedly checking him over like a father would his son.

He watched as the prince looked behind them and set his eyes on one of the children Yeong-shin hadn’t been able to grab, dead with an arrow in her back. Something in the prince’s eyes shattered.

“This is my fault,” he whispered brokenly. “Because of me… _this is all because of me…_ ”

He looked and sounded like a soldier after his first battle, scared out of his mind and close to losing his good sense.

_Oh no, none of that._

_Shit like that gets people killed._

“Yes!” Yeong-shin shouted across the doorway. “This is all because of you.”

_You would know._

_Thirty down to thirteen is one thing._

_Thousands down to thirty is entirely another._

The guard roared at him to shut up but Yeong-shin went on because if any of them were to survive the prince, the only one in power who gave a shit about them, could _not_ lose it now.

“If we are to survive, you _must_ step up!”

“SHUT UP!”

“Otherwise we will _all_ die!”

He wondered if the guard thought he meant the prince give himself up. That was not what Yeong-shin meant, not at all.

The prince looked over at them. His eyes, glazed over with trauma, passed over Yeong-shin to the people huddled and whimpering behind him. He blinked hard, once, before visibly steeling himself.

“Yeong-shin, was it?” he asked, voice rough.

“Yes.”

The prince looked back at him. “You’re going to need that gun.”

*******

The prince’s plan worked, and worked well. Not a single other life (on their side at least) was lost that day as he, the guard, Seo-bi and Yeong-shin led the guards away while the people fled to safety in a nearby town.

Yeong-shin had no problem shooting down guards whose priorities were severely out of order. They were like sitting ducks to him.

It was hardly the worst thing he’d ever done.

He, the prince, and Seo-bi waited for the prince’s guard to return from leading the others astray with his knowledge of their signals. A shadow moved in the fog and Yeong-shin jumped to position, ready to fire.

The prince’s hand over his stopped him. He glanced up at the man, who shook his head once before moving to greet his returning guard.

Yeong-shin’s hand burned where the prince had touched it. He actually looked at it to see if he had burned himself lighting the rifle.

He chalked it up to sudden warmth in the cold fog.

*******

They all looked liked death and felt like it too.

Yeong-shin volunteered to scout out the nearby villages for monsters and to warn those still alive. Something to do, something that was familiar to him, something to give him time to clear out his head.

_Hundreds down to thirty, just to stay alive._

He stalled as long as he could, enjoying the cold night air.

The guard eyed him with blatant mistrust as he gave report to the prince, who sat still as a stone statue, eyes unseeing.

Some of the other war veterans he had previously worked with called it shell shock. They’d have to come up with a new name for it after this mess was over.

Yeong-shin’s eyes caught briefly on the three bloody scratches standing out on the prince’s left wrist and on his right hand, absentmindedly scratching at them. He seemed to have no idea he was doing it.

Yeong-shin glanced at the guard. _Are you going to say something or do you want me to?_

The guard fixed him with a hard look. _Mind your own business._

Yeong-shin bowed to them both and walked towards the stream, resolving then and there to keep an extra eye on the prince. 

Same as he would any fresh soldier in war.

Seo-bi’s screaming snapped them all out of their daze.

“A MONSTER!” she shrieked, sprinting out of a nearby patch of trees.

Both the prince and his guard drew their sword and Yeong-shin held his rifle aloft. And they waited.

By Yeong-shin’s count, there was only one, given the sound of the shuffling. Odd, given the number in Dongnae, but he wasn’t complaining. He quickly scanned the surrounding area, just in case his ears betrayed him—

“Water, I need water…”

…What?

“Magistrate Cho?” Seo-bi gasped.

“Your Highness?” the magistrate squeaked.

Yeong-shin watched white-hot rage flare in the prince’s eyes as he walked forward and kicked the man square in the chest, dropping him to the ground. The magistrate tried to sit up, stammering pleas for mercy, so the prince kicked him again.

Yeong-chin cracked a smile. _I like this guy._

The prince held the tip of his sword to the man’s throat, absolutely livid. As far as Yeong-shin could see, the only reason the magistrate didn’t die that night was because the guard asked the prince not to kill him.

_That guard has a handle on him_ , Yeong-shin mused.

It was a good thing the prince didn’t kill him, too, given the information brought with him. It turned out one of those gentry idiots had brought a _body_ onto the ship, which had subsequently broken out and infected everyone on board save the magistrate.

The ship would reach Sangju soon, if it wasn’t there already.

“We leave for Sangju straight away,” the prince commanded, turning to ready the horses.

_Follow you anywhere,_ Yeong-shin thought.

Yeong-shin? Believing in someone? A _royal_ of all people? Risking his life to follow him?

He must be losing his mind.

_For the people,_ said one part of him.

_Sure,_ said another.

*******

The magistrate was astounded that starving people had refused to leave food on a ship full of dead bodies to rot, that people dressed in rags had decided the half-ruined silk on board would be better on them than at the bottom of the river.

How _dare_ they be so unreasonable.

The prince, on the other hand, clearly did not give a single shit and only said something about crimes and worse crimes (words he clearly didn’t believe himself) when the people refused to tell them where they buried the monsters.

We’ll show you, they said.

Yeong-shin had a bad feeling about this.

He was, as usual, right.

Before anyone knew it a shipfull of bloodthirsty monsters were charging at them from _under their feet._

Great.

It was doubtful they would win, with only four decent fighters amongst them, but that didn’t mean Yeong-shin wasn’t going to try.

His life depended on it after all.

One wave, two waves, and then someone lit the grass on fire.

The men in white saved their lives.

_The men in white killed his family._

The men in white brought them to their town and gave them food and shelter.

_The men in white used the sick and elderly of his hometown of Sumang as bait for the Japanese. His family was among them._

The men in white knew about the monsters. The men in white could help them.

_The men in white wouldn’t tell them where they buried the bodies._

Yeong-shin shivered as he walked through the front gates of Sangju.

*******

Yeong-shin couldn’t sleep. He was still far too wired, having come from a fight to the death into his least favorite place on Earth only to be told to _go to sleep_.

He needed some air.

He crept out, his boots on and gun in hand. Just in case.

_Old habits die hard._

Avoiding the guards was as easy here as it was in any other town he’d ever been in. That was not reassuring.

The air wasn’t doing anything to help him calm down enough to sleep. _Shit_.

_If this were the war—_

Well, it wasn’t.

_If he were back with the Chakho—_

Well, he _wasn’t_.

That’s what he needed. What men in war shared in the dark of the night but never talked about. After a battle or a big fight, that was the only thing that could really knock him out, otherwise he’d spend hours doing what he was doing now, walking around, glancing over his shoulder, exhausted but far too tired to sleep—

He set his eyes on the prince’s quarters.

_No._

_Absolutely not._

_What makes you think he wouldn’t kill you on the spot._

That feeling, previously warm, now burning hot. Desire. Lust. Whatever you wanted to call it.

_He wouldn’t even kill you himself. He’d call his precious guard to tear you apart with his bare hands._

He did it anyway. Snuck past the guards, slid open the door, and slipped it.

The Crown Prince was in no way asleep (Yeong-shin had doubted he was) and Yeong-shin figured that out because as soon as he was fully in the room he had a piece of sharp steel at his throat.

“Easy,” Yeong-shin breathed, hands held up in surrender, eyes fixed on the metal mere inches away from his skin.

The Crown Prince looked a mess. His filthy robes were pulled open at the collar, and his face and neck were damp with sweat. His breath came in harsh pants as he glared at the sudden intruder.

The prince recognized him after a long moment and while he lowered he sword, he didn’t re-sheathe it, mistrust shining harshly in his eyes even in the dark room.

“What is the meaning of this?” the prince hissed.

_Oh, nothing, I just came here to proposition you for sex_.

That would go over like a lead balloon.

_What the bloody fuck have you done you complete and utter fool._

Yeong-shin really didn’t think this through, did he? Then again, when did he ever?

“I came to check on you.” He cringed inwardly. There was a reason he was a tiger hunter and not a scholar and that, right there, was it.

The prince stared at him like he had antlers growing out of his ears. “To _check on me_?”

Well, he was committed now, wasn’t he. He leaned his gun against the doorframe, anxiety pulsing through him.

“Yes,” he said, bending to take off his boots. “Forgive the sudden intrusion, I didn’t think the guards would take kindly to me paying you a visit, so I didn’t trouble them with it.”

“And you decided my wellbeing was your direct concern when, exactly?”

The whole dangerous life Yeong-shin had led and _this_ was what was going to get him killed?

After the insanity of the past few days that might as well happen.

“Since you’re likely the only reason the Lord of this town bothered to help us and our best chance of continued aid,”Yeong-shin replied, a little stunned by his sudden ability to improvise, considering how poorly he had ‘lied’ (read: completely given away) about his identity back in Jiyulheon. “And I found exactly what I was expecting to.”

The prince re-sheathed his sword. “Your concern is noted but not needed. I am well.”

Yeong-shin snorted at that and looked the prince up and down, eyes fixing pointedly on the slowly bleeding scratches on his wrist. “Is that right?”

The prince frowned, tugging down his sleeve, but didn’t respond.

_You just_ had _to go looking for sex_ here _of all places, you couldn’t have just fucking_ gone to sleep _or done_ literally anything else…

“Let me…” _Shit_. “…venture a guess, and…” _Fucking say something._ “…if I’m right, you let me tell you how to fix it. Alright?”

The prince said nothing, so Yeong-shin ventured said guess. After all, he’d been in the prince’s shoes more than once.

“You aren’t asleep because every time you close your eyes you keep seeing the people you killed. The dead kids at the clinic. The monsters. All those people who were alive one minute and dead the next.”

“Don’t presume to know anything about me,” the prince growled.

“Am I wrong though?”

The prince swallowed hard, but didn’t speak further.

Yeong-shin continued. “That is, of course if you can sleep at all. You feel like you aren’t safe here, even though logically you know that you are. You feel like you need to be doing something, hence the pacing, but you can’t figure out what.” He raised an eyebrow. “Am I correct?”

The prince eyed him suspiciously. He didn’t trust anyone who wasn’t his guard, did he?

_You’re not exactly acting like someone trustworthy, now are you?_

Yeong-shin ignored that and went on, nodding. “Your body thinks you’re still out there, and there’s no convincing it that it’s not until it’s good and ready.” He swallowed, ridiculing his selfish motivation for saying what he said next and for doing any of this at all. “But you _can_ make it shut up for a little while.”

The prince raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

_One point for you, Yeong-shin, you selfish bastard._

“You burn off the nervous energy.”

The prince’s gaze was unreadable. “By doing?”

Well. The moment of truth.

_Ah yes, time to die. Why the fuck not._

Yeong-shin took several slow, easy steps towards the prince and, with a palm flat on the prince’s chest, backed him up against the nearest wall.

The sharp sound of a blade half drawn made Yeong-shin jump and he exhaled sharply as the hilt collided hard with his breastbone.

That would bruise.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the prince nearly snarled.

Yeong-shin made no move to counter what would make for an easy draw and slice, not wanting to spook him and far too focused on the feeling of the prince’s chest under his hand, the silk beneath his fingers. He had never touched silk before.

“There are two ways to do it,” he breathed, eyes fixed on the dip in the prince’s collarbone. His mouth watered. “The first is: fight. No rules, til someone doesn’t get back up. Quick, brutal, and messy. Great when it works, terrible when it doesn’t.” Terrible, like the shoulder wound he was originally in Jiyulheon for. “In my experience, it almost always makes everything worse. It’s also very loud and would likely end with my head being separated from my shoulders by the sword of one of those guards out there.”

The prince cocked his head. _No shit._

To Yeong-shin’s surprise, he asked. “And the second?”

Yeong-shin brushed his thumb gently back and forth over the prince’s breastbone. He had lost his goddamn mind, he was about to proposition the _Crown Prince_ for _sex_.

_The prince hadn’t thrown him out yet. He hadn’t even pushed him away._

_You’re taking a risk. A deadly one._

That warm feeling —whatever it was, it was somehow different from lust— burned him alive.

_To hell with it._ He palmed the prince’s cock through his robes.

The sound of a sword falling completely back into its hilt sliced through the air as Yeong-shin suddenly found his wrist trapped in a bruising grip and his throat a bit compressed by the prince’s forearm against it, pushing him back.

But he made no move to pull Yeong-shin’s hand from his groin, which was interesting.

_I cannot believe I just did that._

“Easy,” Yeong-shin soothed. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

“You presume too much,” the prince hissed in his face.

Adrenaline pumped through Yeong-shin’s veins at an alarming rate, making him dizzy.

_“_ You haven’t pushed me away yet. _”_

He’d come this far (he couldn’t believe he was still alive), so he slowly began massaging the prince’s cock through the front of his robes, listening as the prince’s breath became a bit more labored. He still made no move to push Yeong-shin away, even though he definitely had the strength and the height advantage to do it.

“I’ve done it,” Yeong-shin murmured, barely believing his own gall. “Everyone I ever worked with has done it. There’s no shame in it. Those first few times, you need _something_. Or all that shit…” He reached his free hand up and tapped on the prince’s temple. “Settles up here. And if it does that, it’ll never leave you alone.”

The prince still hadn’t pushed him away, hadn’t moved at all.

He leaned a bit closer. “Push me away,” he whispered. “Tell me no and I’ll leave. Hell, call those guards out there and you’ll never have to see my face again. You have all the power here.”

The prince’s grip on him slackened and Yeong-shin let go of him, wrapping an arm around his waist and lifting a hand to brush a strand of hair out of the other man’s face, drunk on exhaustion, adrenaline, and lust. “It works, I promise. I was skeptical, too, the first time it was proposed to me. But it works.”

The prince looked unconvinced, but Yeong-shin licked his lips at the spark of lust in the prince’s eye.

“I know this looks like I’m trying to take advantage of you. That’s what I thought the first time, too. And unfortunately I’ve never figured out how to propose it well.” He cracked a small smile, feeling the prince lean into his touch ever so slightly. “But I’m not trying to trick you or purposefully put you in a bad situation. I’m trying to help you.”

_You are terrible. Selfishly terrible._

“Why?”

Yeong-shin raised an eyebrow.

The prince pressed his forearm more firmly against Yeong-shin’s throat and elaborated. “Your disdain for people of a higher social class is obvious—“

“And in most cases, warranted."

“So why would you _help_ me _,_ the _Crown Prince_ , of all people?”

_Oof. Why indeed_.

Yeong-shin leaned as close as he could without choking himself. “Because as I said, you are our best hope of surviving this. Without you, the people have no hope of making it to safety. But for you to help them, you need to survive. And you won’t survive if your head is fucked up. You’ve already frozen twice in a fight. A third time, and your luck might just run out.”

The prince started him dead in the eye, breathing heavily, starting to shake ever so slightly from the exertion of being so tense. But he spoke no word of dissent.

“Besides,” he said, looking into the prince’s face as burning lust cooled into that same warmth that had taken him so off guard at Jiyulheon. It made him smile. “Seo-bi was right. You are different. And we need that.”

The prince’s face softened ever so slightly as he regarded Yeong-shin.

“You’re taking an enormous risk.”

Yeong-shin snorted. “You don’t have to tell me that.”

The prince tightened his grip on Yeong-shin and shook him briefly. “ _Why?!”_

“ _Because_ ,” Yeong-shin breathed back. “You need it.” He paused briefly before conceding, “Maybe I do too.”

He heard the prince’s breath catch in his throat, just a little.

“Fine,” the prince said softly.

Yeong-shin couldn’t believe his ears. The _Crown Prince_ had just agreed to _sleep_ with him. Well shit. Plain old desire was back, and it burned white hot.

Yeong-shin would make this good for him.

“Careful now,” Yeong-shin murmured, a bit out of breath. “It’s going to hit you like a ton of bricks.”

And with that he tripped the prince and sent them both sprawling to the floor.

They landed with Yeong-shin on top. He came down harder than he meant to (- _you’re distracted- -no shit-_ ) with a hand off to the side of the prince’s right shoulder, his other tucked underneath the prince’s head to keep him from hitting it.

It turned out not to matter as the prince knew how to fall anyway, one hand smacking down hard on the mat to his left.

“Shhh,” Yeong-shin reminded him. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

The prince shot him a nasty look but didn’t fight him as he ground his thigh against the prince’s groin, pressing his own erection against the prince’s hip. The prince let out a sharp groan, hands flying up to hold Yeong-shin’s shoulders, cock stiffening under his ministrations.

“There it is.”

The prince glared at Yeong-shin and his shit-eating grin, but the tiger hunter was too thrilled to care as he pressed his mouth to the collarbone he had been staring at since he walked in. The prince sighed softly at Yeong-shin’s gentle touch on his chest, his mouth on his throat as he rolled their hips together.

This was the _Crown Prince_ he had under him, _damn…_

His head spun.

The prince continued let him do what he wanted and Yeong-shin did whatever made the prince make those lovely little sounds. Yeong-shin had more than a few things on his mind as he rested a hand on the prince’s waist, gently pushing him to turn onto his stomach.

The prince did not like that.

“Hey, hey,” Yeong-shin soothed. “It’s easier this way, it’s easier, trust me—“

“I don’t care. Not that way.”

_There were four of them and they were holding him down, pushing him on his back and holding him down and he was screaming at them horrid, vicious threats which then morphed into pleas as he yelled at the tops of his lungs stop it, STOP IT—_

Yeong-shin flinched hard, knocked off balance by the sudden appearance of one of his worst memories. He hadn’t thought about that since the day it happened (that was the only way he had survived it).

Yeong-shin huffed a nervous laugh. When he spoke, his voice sounded wrong, a bit bleak and monotone. “I don’t think you understand how much this could potentially hurt you if we do it wrong.”

“Do it another way or get out.”

Yeong-shin shivered, once, and then relented. “Okay, okay. Like this then.” _Whatever you want._ He moved to settle fully between the prince’s thighs, focusing on the desire low in his belly. “Like this. Okay?”

The prince let out a breath and nodded, worming his hands between their chests to pull at the ties on Yeong-shin’s tunic, seeking bare skin. The first touch of the prince’s hands on his bare chest punched a breath out of Yeong-shin’s lungs.

It had been far too long, hadn’t it.

He ground their hips together slowly and deliberately, listening to the prince’s bitten off gasps as he pressed his mouth to the man’s throat, collarbone and chest, as he tugged his robes open farther, pressing his mouth to the other man’s chest and scraping his teeth over his pulse point.

He doubted the prince had ever done this with another man before and wondered, too, if he’d ever done anything at all.

He didn’t, however, think the prince would much appreciate the question and didn’t really know what he would do with the answer, so he left it alone and got on with things (he wanted to drag it out, oh how he wanted to, but he couldn’t risk them getting caught).

He pushed the prince’s robes up to bunch around his waist and moved his hands to the ties of the prince’s pants. When he wasn’t stopped, he pulled them down and off.

Yeong-shin could admit it now, the prince was the most beautiful thing he had ever set eyes on in his life. He wanted to strip him bare, he wanted to feel the prince’s skin against his own, he wanted—

There just wasn’t enough time for that.

“What are you waiting for?” the prince growled at him, slightly out of breath.

While he couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but something about that question, or the way he said it, just seemed… _off_ and that made Yeong-shin pause for a moment.

“…Are you sure?”

Yeong-shin found himself fixed with an icy stare, of all things. “Just do it.”

_What the hell…?_

Something was wrong.

Yeong-shin frowned and pulled back. “I’m not here to hurt you—“

The prince grabbed him by the hair on the back of his head and that did actually hurt, enough to make him grimace. “Just. Do. It.” the prince hissed.

Yeong-shin was stunned into silence for a brief moment before his brain caught back up with him. _Oh no, that kind of thinking stops right now._

A part of him screamed for him to stop this right now, the air had changed in a way Yeong-shin couldn’t quite put together, it was safer to just abort the mission and _leave—_

Instead, Yeong-shin glared right back at the prince. “I’m _not_ here for violence. I think we’ve all had enough of that. You let me do it right or it doesn’t happen.” _Got it?_

The prince scoffed at him, but relented, letting go of Yeong-shin’s hair.

Knocked a little off balance, Yeong-shin kept a close eye on the other man as he wet his fingers and continued on with his task, bringing them down towards the prince’s entrance. Only to have his hand smacked away after barely any preparation at all.

“Did you not hear me? Just get on with it!” the prince growled, raising up onto an elbow.

_What. The. Actual. Fuck._

_Boy didn’t know what he was asking for._

Yeong-shin forced his lust-fogged head clear for a brief moment and looked at the prince, at the exhausted slump of his shoulders, at the trauma-tinged sheen to his eyes, the strung-out shaking to his hands.

_Ah._

Yeong-shin understood it then.

Some people used physical pain to help air out their heads, as if physicality would make the nebulousshit in your head more tangible and, therefore, fixable. But such things never really worked and Yeong-shin was not the kind of person who used sex to hurt or punish someone.

Never.

“Do you actually want this?”

“Just—“

“No, answer the question. Do you want this? Yes or no?”

“Yes, but I didn’t think it would take you a dynasty to do it,” the prince shot back, annoyance roughening his voice. He was looking Yeong-shin dead in the eye when he said it, and his body was no less interested in the proceedings that it had been earlier.

_Don’t do it._

_He agreed._

Yeong-shin pulled on the ties of his own pants.

_Don’t._

_You asked him point blank and he said yes with his eyes open._

He spit in his palm and slicked up his cock.

_He doesn’t know what he’s asking for._ _You’ll hurt him and you know it._

_Yes, but I’m_ weak _._

He pushed in and the prince let out a sharp hiss at the intrusion, but before Yeong-shin could respond to it, the prince grabbed on to him and held him tight, using his thighs to draw him the rest of the way in.

Oh, Yeong-shin had been right, the prince had never done this before, he was so tight. He should have prepared him more.

“Did that hurt?” he asked, voice barely rising above a whisper as he rested his forehead on the prince’s shoulder, shaking with the effort of holding still.

The prince shook his head slowly, fingers digging into Yeong-shin’s back.

There was no way that was true, but when he tried to pull back the prince wouldn’t let him and Yeong-shin was beginning to feel the full extent of the exhaustion and trauma of the past few days as his head fogged over completely. The prince’s virgin body felt _so good_ around him, driving away all the things he didn’t want to think about—

_There was so much blood on his hands, he’d never be able to wash it off._

He buried his face in the prince’s neck and forgot about everything.

“Easy,” he murmured against the prince’s neck, licking under his jaw as he started off slow and gentle. The prince tipped his head back, moaning and holding tighter to Yeong-shin’s shoulders, thighs gripping his sides. “Relax, I’ve got you.”

He shifted his angle and the prince whined softly, wrapping one arm around Yeong-shin’s neck and pulling him closer.

Another well aimed thrust and the prince nearly cried out, biting if off at the last second. Yeong-shin covered his mouth with his hand.

“Shhh,” he reminded him.

They went on like that for a little while longer, Yeong-shin getting lost in the rhythm, the feeling of the prince’s thighs tight around his waist, the taste of the skin of his throat.

Until, of course, the prince fucking bit him.

Yeong-shin reared back with a hiss, ripping his hand away to reveal the prince’s satisfied smirk.

_“Harder.”_

Yeong-shin stared at him, shaking out his smarting hand.

Before he could argue, the prince grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him down. “If you’re going to fuck me, do it right. I said, _harder_.”

Heat flared in Yeong-shin’s belly from hearing such a vulgar statement in the prince’s high society accent.

_Well._

He gave the prince one sharp thrust, just to see how he would react.

The prince grabbed at Yeong-shin’s shoulders, pulling him down, and arched his back into it, cock twitching against his stomach as he muffled a cry into the other man’s neck.

_Alright then._

So he obliged the prince’s request _(Yeong-shin would do whatever he wanted),_ driving in hard and fast until the prince was grasping desperately at the shirt on Yeong-shin’s back and muffling grunts and moans into his neck. Yeong-shin himself kept quiet by biting bruises into the prince’s collarbone. The prince jerked sharply at the first few, but then wound a hand in Yeong-shin’s hair and _pulled_ and oh, yes that was perfect.

By the souls of his ancestors, Yeong-shin hoped this wouldn’t be the only time they did this. The Crown Prince felt so good underneath him, holding on to him so tightly.

He wondered how it would feel to kiss that pretty mouth of his, but ultimately decided not to push that particular boundary.

_Don’t ever kiss your lovers,_ a Chakho mentor had told him once. _Lest you fall in love with them._

He hoped again that there would be a next time and hiked up the prince’s leg higher on his waist with a hand on his thigh, hips snapping roughly against the prince’s.

(A part of him wondered if he was being _too_ rough, but that part was very small and very quiet against the torrent of lust coursing through him).

He drew it out as long as he could, but his blood was too hot to have it last near as long as he’d have liked.

The prince whimpered softly as Yeong-shin tangled a hand in _his_ hair, clenching down around him as he ground his cock up against Yeong-shin’s stomach with every thrust, biting down on the junction of his neck and shoulder. God, Yeong-shin was _so_ close, he nearly came right then and there.

“Go on,” Yeong-shin groaned. “Go on, I’ve got you. I’ve got you, _your Highness_.”

And the prince was coming between them with a sharp moan muffled in Yeong-shin’s shoulder, muscles spasming around his cock.

Yeong-shin bit the inside of his cheek hard to keep himself from coming inside the prince right then and there because that was rude, but the fluttering of the prince’s muscles felt so damn good that he couldn’t bear to pull out just yet.

When he could hold out no longer, he pulled out quickly, savoring every last moment inside the prince…

And promptly had his orgasm knocked clean off the table, erection flagging sharply as he realized that there was blood on his cock and high up on the inside of the prince’s thighs.

_There was blood on the man’s cock when he stood up. They were laughing. Yeong-shin thrashed uselessly against their hold on him, and they laughed some more. He never stopped fighting them, his pride wouldn’t allow it, even as exhaustion clutched at him and he looked up at the trees, wondering if this was what it felt like to die. He had bled for days._

_What have I done?_

The prince, panting hard, stayed where he was for a long moment, catching his breath before looking up. When he did finally raise his head his expression, whatever it had been, fell off his face and was replaced by an unreadable one at the sight of Yeong-shin’s shock and the blood.

“I hurt you...” Yeong-shin breathed as the room spun out of focus around him. “W-why didn’t you tell me I was hurting you?”

The prince didn’t answer him. Maybe Yeong-shin didn’t give him time to. In a fit of terror, Yeong-shin grabbed him by the collar of his robes and dragged him back up to face level. “ _Why didn’t you tell me I was hurting you?”_

_(You’ll hurt him and you know it)_

_(Yes)_

_He had bled for days and his soul bled out with it._

_What have I done?_

The prince snorted, annoyance flashing across his face. “You won’t be harmed, if that’s what you’re afraid of. I let you do it.”

Yeong-shin dropped the prince back to the floor as if he were burned. “I _told_ you I didn’t want to hurt you—“

The prince caught himself on an elbow and glared at him reproachfully. “And I _said_ I didn’t stop you. I didn’t notice—“

“Like _hell_ you didn’t.” Even then, sitting there, he could remember how badly it had hurt—

The prince shook his head. “I _let_ you, _what’s the problem?!_ ”

Yeong-shin reeled back from him. “ _I didn’t come here for violence!”_

The prince stayed where he was, legs bent at the knee and splayed out still.

“I get it” Yeong-shin finally whispered, panic and disgust overriding…everything. “You thought that this would somehow make up for it? Right? For everything that’s happened? Those _people_ , those _kids_. That letting someone else hurt you would absolve you of their deaths?”

The prince didn’t respond.

“Well, it won’t. Nothing will. You’ve been to war now and you have to live with it like the rest of us. People die and they die badly and it’s your fault and you can’t fix it. Nothing you do to yourself will fix it. You can’t punish yourself in any way that will change what happened, that will bring them all back. The sooner you learn that, the better chance you have of surviving it.”

The prince had his eyes shut. Yeong-shin barely noticed.

_I have to get out of here._

He straightened his clothes and collected his gun by the door.

“ _Violence_ doesn’t _fix_ anything!” he wheezed before leaving the prince where he was.

A glance over his shoulder as he fled saw the prince turning away from the door, burying his face in his hands.

How he made it out without the guards catching him, he had no idea.

_He wished they had_.

The first dark corner he found on the streets of Sangju he fell into, buried his face in his hands and sobbed as that horrid horrid _horrid_ memory beat him numb.

_Someone did it to them and they did it to you and now you’ve done it to him…_

_You are just like them._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this far! Let me know what you think!!
> 
> Wish me luck as I begin season 2, if Ju Ji-hoon is to be believed it's gonna be a bloodbath!!


	3. Interlude: On Trust and Loyalty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dying man tells his story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Internal monologue like the rest of this story. Do I know how to write a story that’s not an internal monologue? No probably not.
> 
> Also I realized rather late in the game that my computer kept autocorrecting “Joseon” to “José.” I’m pretty sure I caught them all, but should you run into an accidental reference to the Crown Prince of José, I wish you a really good laugh.

*******

The first time Mu-yeong set his eyes on the Crown Prince of Joseon, he was in chains.

_I’m sorry_ , he thought miserably. _My dear, sweet wife, I’m so sorry…_

_How could I have been so stupid._

His wife, his precious wife, had supported him for years by working as a seamstress (she made the most beautiful things for the gentry of Hanyang, he could hardly believe her skill) and what had he done? Taken years — _years_ — to pass the state test only to…

To…

He was _ashamed…_

_“I don’t like these men, my dear…” his wife had murmured quietly._

_“Don’t worry, love,” Mu-yeong had reassured her. “Nothing bad will happen. It’s just a night out to a teahouse for a drink. I’ll be home before you go to sleep. I promise.”_

He could have kicked himself. He should have then. He wife should have taken him by the ears and locked him in the house and—

He had kept his promise at least. He had in fact been home before she went to bed. It’s just that when he came home he was penniless, having been drawn into a long game of poker followed by a long series of losses.

_“You made a mistake, it’s okay,” his wife soothed him, petting his hair where he was bowed down on the floor in front of her, begging her for forgiveness. “I have a big commission coming up. We’ll be okay.”_

He should have let her fix it…

What followed from there had been a series of even worse decisions.

In short, he went out and took a loan from someone (who, following this chain of events, was no longer his friend), and gambled it in an attempt to win back the money he had lost, which resulted in an ever spiraling pit of debt that even his wife’s clever hands couldn’t dig them out of.

Now his creditors wanted their money back and it was increasingly obvious they would do anything to get it...

He had passed the exam just in time. He was the be a palace guard, a job that paid well. He had been so relieved…

That’s when he learned that he would not be paid until after his month-long orientation was complete.

Those he owed money to were pressing down hard on him by then. He couldn’t wait that long for fear of what would happen to his wife if he did.

_They had threatened her threatenedherthreatened—_

It was just a calligraphy brush. The prince had several sitting on his desk when the guard he was shadowing showed him the room. There was no way the prince would miss it.

It didn’t matter if the prince himself would or not, because new hires were searched before they left work that day. When they found the brush tucked in his sleeve, they chained him up and dragged him before the prince.

“…And what is this?” the young royal asked in a deep, clear voice as the other guards dumped Mu-yeong on the floor in front of the very desk Mu-yeong had swiped the brush from earlier that day.

“This guard has been on orientation for three days, your Highness. We found this in his sleeve when we checked him before he left for the day.” The guard held out the calligraphy brush.

It was then that Mu-yeong began to shake. Not for himself, no, he had well and truly brought this on himself. He was terrified for his wife and what the men he owed would do to her after the prince ordered him killed for stealing. Kill her? Kidnap and sell her? Rob her? And he wouldn’t be there to stop them…

The silence was deafening as the prince regarded him where he lay on the floor. One of the guards kicked Mu-yeong in the back.

“Kneel before your prince and beg for forgiveness!”

Such a thing was difficult to do with his hands bound so tightly behind his back, but he managed to scramble into a kneeling position. Before he could beg, the prince spoke.

“There’s no need. I gave it to him.”

… _What?_

“Y-your Highness?”

“Did I stutter?”

“No, your Highness,” the guard stammered. “B-but this guard as been in the company of others all day and we never saw y—“

“Do you presume to know better than me?”

The prince’s hard stare wasn’t even trained on him, yet Mu-yeong still shivered.

“No, your Highness.”

“Then unchain him.”

Mu-yeong nearly sighed in relief as his wrists were released, easing the strain in his aching shoulders.

“You both may go,” the prince told the other guards. “I wish to speak with this new guard alone for a moment.”

Ice ran anew down Mu-yeong’s spine as he stared at the hardwood floor, listening to the sound of rattling chains (almost an omen) as the guards departed.

The second the door closed, Mu-yeong fell into a bow. “Your Highness, forgive me!” he begged, hands shaking where they rested on the floor in front of him.

“Look at me.”

Slowly, Mu-yeong sat up. The prince’s sharp eyes bored into Mu-yeong as he stared at him, lines creasing his forehead in a way that appeared distinctly out of place on a man so young. It made him look much older than Mu-yeong knew him to be. And so very tired.

“What’s your name?” the prince asked, voice sounding equally as tired despite the strength behind it.

“M-Mu-yeong, your Highness.”

“Alright, Mu-Yeong,” the prince said, twirling the calligraphy brush between his fingers and settling into a more comfortable seat. “Start talking.”

Mu-yeong stared at him, confused. “Sir?”

The prince sighed and clarified. “I am giving you one chance to tell me why you stole this from me. I suggest you take it.”

Mu-yeong snapped his gaze to the floor in front of him, shame coloring his face. When he tried to speak, no words came out of his mouth.

“Well?” the prince prompted, still twirling the brush.

Mu-yeong’s head spun so hard he could barely think, let alone form a coherent sentence. _But he had to say something, this was his only chance…_

The only thing he managed to say was “I have made a terrible mistake…”

“Yes,” the prince said impatiently. “That much is clear. Now are you going to tell me why you did it or aren’t you?”

“They’re going to hurt my wife…”

The prince leaned forward, elbows resting on the edge of his desk as he looked on intently. “Go on.” When Mu-yeong stuttered to begin again, he prompted, “Who are ‘they’ and why are they going to hurt your wife?”

“They are a lot of people,” Mu-yeong whispered. “I owe them…a lot of money and they’re getting impatient. They told me that if I don’t pay them by tomorrow night they will give me a push. They said my wife would…what they would do to her would be able to convince me to pay up…”

“How much do you owe them?”

“Your Highness?”

“Do you know how much you owe them?”

Mu-yeong told him and watched the prince’s eyes go wide.

“ _How_ did you manage to rack up that much?”

Mu-yeong smiled miserably. “My wife has been supporting me for years as I worked to pass the state exam. One night I agreed to join some friends at a local teahouse for a drink, and they convinced me to play poker with them. And when I lost that money they convinced me to borrow from them. And when I lost that…” he trailed off.

The prince seemed to understand the trajectory. He regarded Mu-yeong with an unreadable expression on his face before standing and turning to rummage around in a drawer.

_So this is where I die,_ Mu-yeong thought sadly, thinking of his beautiful wife’s face…

“Here.”

Mu-yeong looked up to see the prince holding out a small trinket…was that _silver?!_

“That calligraphy pen won’t cover the amount you just told me. While I can’t say I’ve ever sold anything on the black market, I do know there are plenty of people who would pay a pretty penny for something like this.”

Mu-yeong stared at the prince, stunned.

“Take it, Mu-yeong,” the prince pressed. “Take it and sell it and pay your debts.”

Shaken beyond words, Mu-yeong reached out to take it, but when he did, the prince snatched it back.

“ _On the condition_ ,” he continued sternly, “That you stop gambling immediately. Not tomorrow, not next week, effective _immediately._ ”

“Yes, your Highness…” Mu-yeong breathed, bewildered and shaking.

“And you will use the money you get from this to pay your debts and _only_ to pay your debts. Should you deign to use it for anything less than savory, I _will_ know and I will have you thrown in prison. Is that clear?”

Mu-yeong nodded fervently, completely unable to believe this was actually happening. “Yes, your Highness!”

“Good,” he said and dropped the trinket into Mu-yeong’s palm. “You may go.”

Mu-yeong, utterly dumbfounded, bowed deeply as he spewed words of thanks that likely didn’t fit together in a sentence. He retreated quickly then, but before he could get to the door he heard the prince speak again.

“And Mu-yeong?”

The guard turned and bowed again, not daring to look at the man. “Yes, your Highness!”

“I will not bail you out from gambling debt again, nor will I tolerate you stealing from me.”

“Understood! Thank you for your unending mercy!”

The prince sighed heavily. “Yes, now get out. And give my regards to your saintly wife.”

Mu-yeong obeyed, feeling like his head was stuck in a cloud until he was outside the palace gates, the brisk night air cooling the sweat on his face.

_Had that actually happened or had he just dreamt it?_

The silver piece was still in his pocket, proof that what Mu-yeong remembered had actually transpired. He held the piece in a tight grip the whole way to sell it.

*******

The prince had been right, someone did indeed pay a pretty penny for the piece, more than enough to settle his debts.

“Look at you, Mu-yeong!” one of his ‘friends’ jeered. “Making all this money as a pet of the royals!”

The guardsman seethed as he handed over what he owed to the last of his creditors.

“Say,” one of the others quipped. “Whatdya say we play a little with that extra change you got there?”

“Yeah c’mon,” somebody else said. “Who knows, you could win big this time!”

Mu-yeong glared daggers at them all.

“ _No!_ I’m done with you and I am done with your games _,_ ” he snarled before turning on his heel.

A couple people stepped in front of the door, no doubt intent on robbing him of what money he had left. He half drew his sword as they approached, lip curled as he let the razor sharp steel glint in the candlelight.

They got out of his way.

At home, he presented the rest of money to his wife on his knees, once again begging her forgiveness for his stupidity.

She stared at the coins in his hands, astonished. “Where did you get all this? Do they truly pay you that well?”

Mu-yeong swallowed hard. “I became acquainted with the Crown Prince today,” he whispered. “He is…a very understanding and generous man…”

“The Crown Prince gave you this?”

He told her everything. Never did he keep anything from his precious wife. And she sat, staring at him in disbelief, as he finished he story of the prince who had helped them. Saved them. Never would he forget it.

“I must find some way to repay him,” she finally said, a determined note in her smooth voice. “Something to show the depth of our gratitude.”

Mu-yeong sighed, sagging back on his heels, the weight of an exhausting day (no, several _months_ ) finally catching up to him.

“What could we possible give to a man who has everything?” he asked, half asleep where he knelt.

His wife didn’t answer him. She stayed up all night stitching something by candlelight.

Before Mu-yeong left for work the following morning, his wife presented him with a strip of finely collaged colorful silk, the character for gratitude neatly cross-stitched in the center.

“It’s a bookmark,” she said. “I made it from scraps from other projects. I heard the prince is a learned man and thought he might have use for it…”

Mu-yeong stared, speechless, at the work of art.

“It’s not much, I know,” his wife went on. “But we must show our thanks by giving him something from the heart—“

“My dear,” Mu-yeong said, kissing his wife soundly. “If I still have a job when I get there, I will be sure to give this to him.”

She nodded and bid him farewell.

*******

Much to his surprise, Mu-yeong did in fact still have a job when he arrived at the palace.

“The prince has asked that you report directly to his quarters,” the head eunuch told him with a distasteful look.

Far be it from Mu-yeong to disobey the prince.

“Your Highness,” he said firmly when he entered, bowing deeply.

“Ah, Mu-yeong,” he heard the man’s distinctive voice from the other side of the room. “Shut the door.”

He did so.

“Paying your debts went well then.” It was a statement, not a question.

_I will know,_ he had said.

“Yes, your Highness.” He looked up at the prince, who was regarding him amusedly from where he stood by the window. Mu-yeong fingered the strip of silk in his pocket. “If I may, your Highness?”

“You may.”

“My wife is a seamstress. She is very grateful for how you helped us and insisted on making you something to show the depth of our gratitude…” He pulled the piece from his pocket. “She sewed this for you.”

Curious, the prince walked over to him and took the silk from him.

“A bookmark,” he said, gently running the strip between his fingers.

“Yes, your Highness.”

“This is lovely,” the prince murmured, seeming almost touched. “How did she sew this so intricately?”

Mu-yeong chuckled. “That I will never know, sir.”

The prince’s mouth quirked in just a hint of a smile. “Gratitude,” he read, running his thumb over the character. “Give your wife my thanks and appreciation. I will certainly make use of it.”

“I will, your Highness.”

The prince regarded the bookmark for a minute longer before carefully laying it atop an open book on his desk. “Do you know why I called you here today?”

“No, your Highness. In truth, I did not expect to still be employed when I arrived here this morning.”

The prince snorted. “Every now and again, someone thinks they can steal from me and get away with it. I suppose they think that because I want for nothing, I won’t notice when something goes missing.” He walked back over to the window and gazed out it before carrying on. “But I know everything that goes on in this palace, and I always catch them. Every time, when I give them the opportunity I gave you to explain themselves, they provide me with a sob story similar to yours.”

Mu-yeong flinched, stiffening in apprehension.

“Yours is that first story that has ever been true.”

Mu-yeong looked up at him. “Your Highness?”

“You listened to what I said. You kept to our agreement. You are the first one that ever has. That’s why you still have a job, because such honesty is hard to come by in this day and age.”

Mu-yeong was once again stunned beyond words.

"Come now,” the prince said, pulling away from the window. “From this moment on you will be my personal guard and I have errands to run.” And the prince was out the door and down the hall in a flash, leaving Mu-yeong scrambling to catch up. “You know what they say,” the prince called over his shoulder. “You lose an hour in the morning and you’re left looking for it all day.”

So began the greatest adventure of Mu-yeong’s life.

He had no idea what he was getting himself into.

*******

It didn’t take Mu-yeong very long to learn that the prince did not trust anyone in the palace as far as he could spit.

“Your Highness!” Mu-yeong gasped when he entered the prince’s quarters one morning mere weeks after he began working at the palace to find him only half dressed and dressing _himself._

The prince glanced over his shoulder when Mu-yeong entered but gave no reply.

“Did the eunuchs not arrive this morning?” Mu-yeong fretted. “Wait just a moment, I will go find them—“

“There’s no need,” the prince replied simply, shrugging on his outer robe.

Mu-yeong stared at the wall, dumbfounded once again (it was quickly becoming a permanent state whenever he was around the prince).

“You’ll find,” the prince elaborated. “That I do things a bit differently than what they tell you in training. Whatever I can do myself, I do myself.”

“But…why?”

“Because I want to. Any other questions?”

Mu-yeong snapped back into attention. “No, your Highness.”

“Good. Now let’s go. I’m late for the council meeting.”

Mu-yeong followed him down the hall, still struggling to pay attention to his job rather than the beautiful architecture he was now surrounded with day in and day out. As such, when the prince suddenly stopped in front of him, they nearly collided.

Mu-yeong skidded to a halt just in time to be met with an annoyed look from the prince before the young man turned to look back down the hall. There, at the end, stood a man. Even as far away from him as they were, Mu-yeong could feel his ice cold gaze.

The man bowed, agonizingly slowly (he kept his eyes up, not once breaking eye contact with the prince) before continuing on his way.

Mu-yeong glanced back up at the prince, watching his deathly neutral look morph into one of profound dislike.

“Who was that, your Highness?” Mu-yeong asked carefully.

“Lord Cho Hak-ju,” the prince replied bitterly. “Hurry. I’m still late.”

It wouldn’t be very long before Mu-yeong wished he had never seen that horrid man.

*******

“Stop.”

Mu-yeong flinched up to attention. “Your Highness.”

“Stop reading over my shoulder,” the prince snapped, though not unkindly. “If you want something to read, go pick something out.” He gestured vaguely to the messy racks of scrolls and books.

Mu-yeong swallowed. “I appreciate your Highness’s generosity, but I am working at this time.”

The prince sighed and turned the page. “Must get incredibly boring.”

To be honest it did, though Mu-yeong wasn’t complaining. Work was work and this work paid better than anything else he could ever hope to get.

Half an hour later, Mu-yeong was perusing the racks.

“Pick whatever you want,” the prince called from where he was still sitting, engrossed in his book.

That was proving to be difficult.

Mu-yeong could read. One had to know at least 500 characters to pass the state test (and more do do well) required to work as a guard.

Even still, with each book he picked up he ran into more and more characters he didn’t know and strings of them together that didn’t make a lick of sense.

“Having trouble?”

Mu-yeong jumped out of his skin at the sound of the prince’s voice suddenly right behind him.

“Damn it,” he swore, resting a hand on his chest to calm his pounding heart. “Your Highness should not sneak up on people like that!” he scolded.

The prince chuckled. Mu-yeong noted absentmindedly that he had never heard the prince laugh before and he had been working with him for nearly six months.

“A tough read you’ve picked out there.”

Mu-yeong looked to the book in his hands. “I wouldn’t know. I was just looking, your Highness.”

The prince regarded him curiously. “You do read, don’t you?”

“Yes, your Highness. One must, to pass the state test.”

“This kind of reading is quite a bit different,” he replied, taking the book from Mu-yeong’s hands and placing it back on the shelf before turning to sift through a pile of books behind him.

Mu-yeong looked around the messy room, frowning. “Forgive me your Highness, but how do you find anything in here?”

“I know where everything is,” he said simply before straightening. “Here, start with this one.”

The prince held out a thin scroll. Mu-yeong unrolled it carefully. “A poem?”

The prince nodded. “Hopefully one not too difficult to understand. Try it and let me know if you get stuck.”

‘This kind of reading’ as the prince put it, did indeed turn out to be very different from the studying he had done. Even with the simple scroll the prince had given him, he struggled.

In the end, the prince sat next to him on the floor as Mu-yeong read the scroll out loud, following the prince’s prompting when he got stuck, which was often.

“Your Highness?” he asked as dusk fell outside.

“Hmm?” The prince looked up from his book and marked the page with a cross-stitched silk bookmark. “Stuck again?”

“No, your Highness…” he trailed off. The prince waited patiently (he was nothing if not patient). “…Why are you helping me read?”

The prince looked down at the scroll as he thought for a moment. “A mentor of mine once told me this: if you read to a man what has been written, you tell him what to think. If you teach a man to read, you provide him the tools with which to think for himself.”

Mu-yeong stared. “You…want me to think for myself?”

“Yes. I want everyone to be able to think for themselves.”

Mu-yeong stared at the scroll for a long time. Eventually, the prince went back to his book.

*******

“Mu-yeong…” the prince mumbled, leaning more heavily into him.

The guard shifted the prince’s arm around his shoulder and adjusted his grip on the man’s waist. “Yes, your Highness?”

“I don’t feel so good…”

Mu-yeong was going to beat the hell out of the eunuch who had kept the prince’s cup so full of Soju at the banquet that night, and would dream about putting the fear of God into the other gentrymen who goaded the prince into drinking so much.

“We’re almost back to your rooms—“

“I need some air…” He pointed down a hall. “Can…get to the gardens…tha’ way…”

Truly, the prince knew the palace halls better than anyone.

Once out in the cool night air, he set the prince down on a stone bench to sober up a bit.

The royal swayed badly even sitting down, enough that Mu-yeong rested a hand on his shoulder to keep him from tipping clean off the bench.

The young man rested his head in his hands, groaning miserably. “Why does anyone drink at all…”

“It can be fun if you drink responsibly,” Mu-yeong chided. “Has your Highness not imbibed before?”

“No…” the prince whispered. “I’ve never drunk more than…more than two sips of Soju…in one sitting…”

“And then you went and drank half a bottle?” Mu-yeong asked, astounded. Indeed though, in the year he had been working with the prince, he had never once seen the young man drink recreationally. He toasted politely at dinners, though never took a sip more than he had too, never once letting go of the rigid control he had over himself.

What had changed this night, Mu-yeong wasn’t sure.

But the prince didn’t reply to his question, breathing heavily as he held his head in his hands. Mu-yeong took one small step to the side in time for the prince to double over and vomit up the offending liquor.

“Don’t worry, your Highness,” Mu-yeong soothed sympathetically. “Everyone does it at least once. If you’re smart, and I’ve seen that your Highness is, you only do it _once_.”

“I’m never touching it again,” he slurred before vomiting up more bile and alcohol.

Mu-yeong shook his head as he waited for the prince to collect himself. “Your Highness’s first mistake was drinking so much at once. Your Highness’s second mistake was doing so and not touching any food with it. And how you managed that I will never know. It all looked so delicious!”

The prince coughed, absolutely miserable.

The guardsman pressed his lips together. “Allow me to call a physician for you in the morning.”

The young man leaned heavily on one hand as he held his stomach with the other. “Why?”

Mu-yeong chuckled. “Because you won’t be able to open your eyes let alone get out of bed by morning.”

The prince made a noncommittal noise.

“Come now,” Mu-yeong said. “Let’s walk back. Time for bed.”

Slowly, the began to make their way back to the palace, the prince still very drunk and leaning heavily on Mu-yeong for support.

“Your Highness should enjoy life more often,” Mu-yeong counseled, aware he was mostly talking to himself at that point. “That way, you won’t overindulge all in one go like you did today.”

“Can’t afford to…” the prince slurred so thickly it took Mu-yeong a second to understand it.

“Can’t afford to?” the guard repeated, confused.

“Can’t…can’t let them see me like this…” he murmured, suddenly tugging Mu-yeong in a different direction.

“Your Highness!” Mu-yeong cried, nearly losing his grip on the prince. “Where are we going?”

“Back entrance…so they won’t see…”

“So _who_ won’t see?”

“L’rd Cho…”

Mu-yeong’s blood ran cold. This had suddenly gone so far above his pay grade.

The prince stumbled as he continued, “Wants me gone, wants me dead, wants the throne…can’t see me weak…he’ll label me unfit, he’ll find a way and he’ll convince them all… Not even L’rd Ahn’d be able to help me then…”

Overwhelmed by the sudden context to the strange atmosphere in the palace, Mu-yeong shushed the prince.

“We’re going inside now. We have to be quiet.”

The prince nodded jerkily as Mu-yeong half carried him back to his rooms. He got lost twice in the dark back corridors of the palace and owed his continued employment to a young eunuch from the kitchens who guided him and the half asleep prince (the boy’s eyes widened when he recognized who Mu-yeong was holding up, but said nothing after the guard fixed him with a withering look) through the maze-like hallways.

As Mu-yeong laid the prince down rather ungracefully on his mat (he was much taller than Mu-yeong and as such he was _heavy_ ), he began to ramble again.

“‘M not safe…” he whispered. “It’s not safe here…” 

“If your Highness is truly concerned,” he said slowly, still crouched by the prince’s mat. “You should inform your father, the King.”

The prince spat angrily, leaving Mu-yeong frozen in soul-deep shock.

“My _father_ ,” the prince growled. “Doesn’t _care_ about me. He lets them walk all over me…He’s the _King_ , he should…Stand your own ground, boy, he said…I was _six!_ ”

The prince wasn’t making any sense now (Mu-yeong doubted he would remember a thing come morning), but he was veering towards dangerously treasonous territory.

“Your Highness should rest now,” he insisted firmly.

“You don’t believe me,” the prince accused, pain and anger tinting his still badly slurred speech.

“I do, your Highness,” Mu-yeong said carefully. “But such things are best discussed fresh in the morning.”

The prince nodded slowly, falling asleep rather quickly after that.

Mu-yeong arrived home long after his wife had gone to bed and slept poorly.

*******

As the guardsman had expected, the prince didn’t appear to have remembered a thing come morning (save his vow that he would never drink again). So, Mu-yeong let the prince’s half treasonous words fall from his memory (though he never again felt entirely settled upon entering the palace).

In fact, he managed not to think at all about what had happened for several weeks. Until the Lord Ahn Hyeon’s mother passed away. Then he remembered every word the prince had drunkenly said.

_I’m not safe._

_Not even Lord Ahn would be able to help me then._

He stood beside the prince as he bid farewell to his mentor. He watched as the young man bowed his head and spoke in a carefully neutral tone.

“Ride safely, master. I am sorry for your loss.”

The old man nodded before mounting his horse and riding off through the palace gates, his own guards following closely behind.

When the prince turned to head back to the palace, he was white as a sheet.

*******

After that, the prince’s demeanor changed.

It was subtle at first. Mu-yeong likely only noticed it because he spent nearly every minute of every day with the prince and therefore knew him quite well. To everyone else, other servants and guards included, the prince was still the perfect royal. Polite, dutiful, sure, and strong.

Mu-yeong, though, noticed the tense line of his shoulders, his unwillingness to turn his back to a door, how his hands would sometimes shake when he was writing and he would have to start over…

_They weren’t just the ramblings of a drunken man, were they?_

It was clear that someone (Lord Cho?) or something was bothering the prince. Whatever it was, it got worse with each passing day.

The prince hid it very well. As the months passed he remained his collected (if not quite so effortlessly calm) self in front of all who mattered. But in the face of whatever extreme strain he was under, he couldn’t keep up the facade forever.

The first real crack in his perfect shell occurred one day while the prince was sitting in his library. He had called Mu-yeong in to sit with him, as he generally did, and Mu-yeong had been happy to provide company while he worked on his reading (he hardly ever needed the prince’s help anymore!)

Mu-yeong barely glanced up when the prince rose and walked along the shelves to search for a text (what he could do himself, he did do himself after all). Then, out of the blue, the prince hurled a book at the shelf in front of him.

Mu-yeong leapt to his feet at the sudden crash, startled.

“Your Highness—“

“ _I can’t find it!_ ” the prince half shouted.

Mu-yeong had never once, in the year and a half he had been working with him, seen the prince act this way. “What are you looking for?” he asked carefully.

“ _Analects,_ ” the prince growled, angrily sifting through a stack of books on the floor.

Mu-yeong stared. “Please, sit down, your Highness. I’ll find it for you.”

To his surprise, the prince obeyed without complaint, abandoning his fruitless search and sitting down heavily at his desk, rubbing his eyes.

Mu-yeong eventually found the book in a stack by the back wall. He tried not to notice how the prince’s hands shook as he took it.

The prince ducked his head as he opened the book, but he couldn’t hide how his face burned.

“You may go,” he said quietly.

Mu-yeong obeyed without question and tried not to feel hurt.

*******

That day in the library turned out not to be a one-time incident. In fact, as the months went on, the prince’s (hidden) outbursts of frustration grew more frequent.

_Something_ was eating him alive.

And there was _nothing_ the guardsman could do to fix it. It wasn’t as if he could directly _ask_ the prince what was wrong (he wouldn’t dare bring up everything he had said while drunk). So he did the only thing he _could_ think to do. Joke.

He knew he risked his job (and if the prince was any less decent a man, his freedom) to do it, but he would do anything to try and make the serious prince smile or even laugh.

He hadn’t done either since Lord Ahn had left.

(In truth, Mu-yeong did not like Lord Ahn Hyeon. If the prince really had depended on him so much for his safety, how dare the man up and leave the young royal who looked to him like a father? Who he apparently looked at as a son? If Mu-yeong ever had a son, he would never leave him. Ever.)

Despite Mu-yeong’s continued efforts to make the palace a brighter and safer place for the prince, his mood grew darker by the day.

One particular night, the prince had had to attend yet another state dinner (Mu-yeong hadn’t previously understood how _dinner_ could be so tiresome. He understood now).

Something good had occurred somewhere in the kingdom. A treaty? Something. There was a lot of cheering and toasting and general gaiety. The prince drank a small sip of Soju when it was required of him, but no more, true to his vow (Mu-yeong hadn’t expected him to take it so seriously). And as usual, he barely touched any of the food.

At the end of the night, the King (Mu-yeong would never get used to being able to go home and tell his wife ‘yes dear I saw the _King_ today at work’) announced that those who wished to could follow him to visit the home of his concubines.

_Huh._ It wasn’t as if the invitation extended to him and it wasn’t as if Mu-yeong would have accepted it if it had, but he supposed it wasn’t the worst way one could spend an evening.

As the men of the hall boisterously rose to their feet, Mu-yeong bowed lightly to the prince.

“Enjoy your evening, your Highness.”

The young royal gave him a reproachful look. “What are you talking about? I won’t be joining them.”

Mu-yeong frowned as he hurried after the prince on his way back to his rooms. “Eh? Why not? We have often discussed the concept of you enjoying life more. Any man as young as yourself should—“

The prince whirled around, glaring at him. “You presume to compare me to _any other man_ my age and tell me what I should do with myself?”

Mu-yeong took a step back, surprised at the ferociousness of the prince’s voice and thoroughly chastened. “No, your Highness…”

“Good.”

He took a convoluted route back to his rooms and somehow managed to lose Mu-yeong while he did it.

The guardsman was careful around the prince after that. Whatever was wrong, it was clear the prince wasn’t himself, so Mu-yeong took to simply trying not to bother him and hoped that one day the clever young man he had come to almost think of as a friend would return.

*******

The prince had taken to meditating in the garden most afternoons. As such, Mu-yeong took to standing with him.

_All things considered, I have done very well for myself,_ Mu-yeong mused as he admired the scenery. The calm pond, the trees, the wind blowing softly through them…

The prince choked.

Or at least it sounded like he did, startling Mu-yeong out of his reverie.

“Your Highness?” he asked, moving so he could see the prince’s face. “Are you alright?”

It was soon very clear that the prince was not alright.

His face was pale as a ghost, eyes wide with panic as he grasped at his chest and throat with both hands, desperately trying to breathe.

_He couldn’t breathe._

Mu-yeong yelled for help at the top of his lungs before dropping to his knees beside the prince, desperately searching for a way to aid him as the prince’s breath came in horrible agonizing rattles before disappearing all together.

Tears poured down the young man’s cheeks as he collapsed forward, his whole body shaking with the effort of trying to _breathe_ and Mu-yeong couldn’t do anything but _watch_ as the prince was _dying_ in front of him—

“Get him up!” a voice shouted from behind him. Mu-yeong turned. A physician. It was a physician. “Hold him up, I said!”

Mu-yeong obeyed without question, grabbing the prince under the arms and hoisting him up to rest him against his chest. “Hold on, your Highness,” he whispered in the prince’s ear. The young man didn’t appear to have heard him.

The physician looked the prince over quickly before ordering Mu-yeong to hold him steady, resting his hands on the prince’s shoulders and digging his thumbs in _hard_ right underneath his collarbones.

To Mu-yeong’s shock and utter relief, the prince gasped in a breath of air.

“Deep breaths, now,” the physician counseled pressing in harder.

Slowly but surely, the terrible rattling in the prince’s lungs disappeared. When he finally drew in a clear breath, Mu-yeong breathed a sigh of relief.

The physician shooed him and the other half of the palace that had come rushing out away as the prince scrubbed the tears off his face and put himself back together, wishing to speak with him privately.

Mu-yeong refused to stray too far.

*******

It wasn’t until later that night when Mu-yeong was called in to see the prince again.

“Come quick,” the court lady said hurriedly. “He’s very upset.”

Mu-yeong frowned. _Oh dear._

The prince was more than upset. He was furious.

Mu-yeong walked in just in time to see him rip a page out of what appeared to be his _patient journal_ and toss it in the fire.

“Your Highness—!” Mu-yeong cried. The prince cut him off before he could speak another word.

“ _Never_ , under any circumstances, call a physician for me again,” he hissed, fire reflecting dangerously in his eyes. “I don’t care if I am _literally_ dying on the floor, _never_ again! Is that clear?!”

“Yes, your Highness!” Mu-yeong said quickly before apologizing profusely that he had been unaware of the prince’s aversion to medical care.

The prince said nothing in reply, dropping the journal onto his desk and storming past Mu-yeong and out the door.

“Wh-where are you going?!” Mu-yeong called, hurrying after him.

“On an errand,” the prince snapped. “ _Alone!"_

Mu-yeong skidded to a halt and watched the young man leave.

The following day, he heard the head court physician, the same one who had treated the prince, had resigned and quickly left the city that morning.

Mu-yeong was suddenly painfully aware that this all went much deeper than he had ever been previously aware.

Something was going on. Something bad. And while he had no way to figure out what that was, he resolved to glue himself to the prince’s side to better protect him from anything that might come his way.

With was good, because increasingly, many things did.

About a month after the garden incident, Mu-yeong was checking in in the morning when he was approached by one of the eunuchs. Which was odd, because generally, the eunuchs hated him. (He had no idea why, but that was fine because he wasn’t all that fond of them either.)

This one was acting strangely, Mu-yeong noted with narrowed eyes. He was trying to _gossip_ with the guardsman, acting shifty, evasive…

“Speak plainly,” Mu-yeong finally snapped. “I have work to do.”

The eunuch cocked an eyebrow. “Well haven’t you heard about the prince?”

Mu-yeong froze. “What about him?”

“That he’s unwell…in the mind. You’re his personal guard, you must have noticed something.”

_Oh._

It took every ounce of Mu-yeong’s self control to keep from drawing his blade.

“No,” he snarled. “I have not noticed anything and you would do well to _mind your own business_.”

It was only when he was halfway to the prince’s quarters that he realized he should have gotten the eunuch’s name. Though he also supposed it didn’t matter. If he were a spy, he wouldn’t have given his real name.

“Your Highness!” he called when he entered, voice urgent.

The prince looked up from where he sat at his desk nibbling on a small bowl of rice, looking exhausted.

Mu-yeong bowed and dropped into a kneel, eyes fixed on the floor. “Your Highness, I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’ve just had a worrisome encounter.”

The prince merely raised an eyebrow. That was all the permission Mu-yeong needed.

“A eunuch was questioning me this morning about you.”

“Questioning you?” the prince asked dully.

“Trying to gossip with me. He said there was a rumor you weren’t well and was asking me if I’d noticed anything. I denied everything of course because what he said was not true, but I fear his motives.”

The prince set down his rice and rubbed his temples. “Did you get his name?”

“No, sir.”

“Could you pick him out?”

“Yes, sir.”

The prince nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Thank you, Mu-yeong.”

The eunuch was thrown in prison later that day. He had mysteriously disappeared the next, nothing but a bloody sock still in his cell.

*******

Later that week, the prince was quiet literally up to his eyeballs in court documents and, by the time midday rolled around, nearly in tears from frustration and stress.

(Mu-yeong couldn’t understand what was going on, he wished he could help, he had searched for any way to help, to shield the prince from whatever was endangering him, had looked everywhere for a solution to his troubles and come up _empty_ …)

“It’s a lovely day out, your Highness,” he said, staring out the window as the prince put down his calligraphy pen, rubbing his eyes with his sleeves.

The prince gave no reply.

(The only time Mu-yeong had seen the prince cry in nearly three years was when Mu-yeong feared he was dying in the garden. The guardsman had seen him embroiled in huge fights in the council chamber, seen him faced with enormous decisions that needed to be made quickly back during the war when the King had taken ill. To see the prince under enough unceasing stress to break him down so was not something to be taken lightly).

“You should go outside, get some air. Maybe go for a ride. Return with a fresh head.”

The prince nodded in agreement.

While he had never been a man of many words, the prince was unusually quiet as the two of them trotted out of the city and into the expansive fields just outside the borders of Hanyang. Normally Mu-yeong would have made a fuss about straying so far from the palace, but he didn’t push the prince that day, following him wherever he wished to go.

Eventually, the clear air seemed to calm him down enough that he began making small talk with Mu-yeong. His voice was still quieter than it normally was, but Mu-yeong would take it as a win.

They began walking their horses slowly back towards the city through a grove of trees and Mu-yeong had been relating some ridiculous story to the prince that he had definitely embellished when the faintest glint of metal caught his eye from a tree just up ahead.

He grabbed the prince by the sleeve and dragged him over the neck of his horse just in time to miss an arrow that would have hit him straight in the heart.

Sitting up quickly, he opened his mouth to tell the prince to _get out of here_ when four men leapt out of the woods on either side of them, quickly surrounding them and snatching their horses’ reins.

“Damn,” he muttered.

“Get off,” one of the men growled, face covered.

Both Mu-yeong and the prince got off their horses. Mu-yeong quickly glanced around for the archer in time to see him jump out of his tree and come to join his companions.

“What do you want?” Mu-yeong growled, nudging his horse to block one of the men.

“We know one or two people who would pay a lot of money for his life,” one hissed, nodding towards the prince. “We were gonna go with dead just to be safe, but since we’ve got you alive—“

The men stalked closer.

“Your Highness,” Mu-yeong said calmly. “If you see an opening, take it and run.”

“Mu-yeong—“

The men laughed. “It’s five against two, if you can even count the royal in a fighting capacity.”

The archer snickered.

Mu-yeong cracked his neck. “I like those odds.”

With that, he shoved his shoulder into his horse’s side to temporarily block _two_ men (how convenient) and, with a quick draw, sliced the archer’s bow in half.

The next thing he knew, four men were dead and the prince had just knocked out the fifth, who had just been about to hit the guardsman over the head with a rock, with a solid punch to the jaw.

He nodded, impressed. “Very nice, your Highness.”

The young man cracked a slightly strung out smile before nodding at the four bodies on the ground. “How did you do that?”

Mu-yeong looked at them and shrugged, untying his belt to bind the unconscious man. “A lot of training and practice.” He grew serious then. “Is your Highness well? Were you harmed?”

The prince shook his head. “Not at all, thanks to you.”

Mu-yeong sighed in relief. “Good, good.” He climbed back on his horse after boosting the would-be assassin onto the rump of his horse. The prince did the same, a little shaken, and they made their way quickly back to the city.

Delivering the man to the prison and making a full report to the city guard went by in a blur, and before Mu-yeong had a chance to think, it was dark out and he was standing in the prince’s quarters.

“Was that the first attempt on your life you have experienced?” Mu-yeong carefully asked the young royal, who was seated at his desk, twirling a calligraphy brush between his fingers.

“No,” he said quietly. “But it never gets any less…” he trailed off. Mu-yeong understood. After a long moment, he looked back up at Mu-yeong. “Will you teach me how to fight like that?”

The guardsman frowned. “Your Highness has been training in several forms of martial arts for at least as long as I have worked here.”

“I have, but I don’t think I could fight like that.”

Mu-yeong chuckled. “You knocked a man out with one hit.”

The prince cracked a smile, glancing down at his bruised knuckles. “Yes, but you killed four men in under a minute. Will you teach me?” He asked it like a genuine question rather than an order.

Mu-yeong smiled. “Of course, your Highness.”

*******

Mu-yeong began to stay later and later, standing guard at his door long after the prince had gone to bed.

_I’m not safe here._

_Was that the first attempt on your life? No…_

A whole mess of complicated emotions regarding his friendship with the prince and ever growing sense of duty to protect him boiled down and simply stated: Mu-yeong would rather be present than not if another attempt was made on his life.

_“I’m sorry I haven’t spent much time at home recently, dear,” he had told his wife early that morning._

_“It’s alright,” she replied, smiling sweetly. “I know you are very fond of the prince, that you care for him almost like a son. It warms my heart.”_

He had fussed about her description that he cared for the prince like a son, how could a common man like him ever dare to think of the King’s son as his own, but she wasn’t wrong. If he and his wife ever managed to have a son, he hoped the boy would grow up to be like the prince.

A loud crash knocked Mu-yeong out of his thoughts and he cracked open the door to the prince’s rooms to see what was the matter. The scene he found was frighteningly familiar.

The prince kneeling on the ground by his bed, hands grasping at his throat and chest in panicky motions as he struggled and failed to breathe.

_Never call for a doctor again! Even if I am dying on the floor!_

He prayed to anyone who would listen that the prince wasn’t dying. Mu-yeong ran in (but he took care to shut the door behind him) and to the prince’s side, desperately trying to remember what the physician had done when this had happened before.

“Breathe, your Highness, breathe. It’s okay.”

The prince stared at him, absolutely terrified as tears of panic poured down as face, chest heaving but making no headway.

Before, the physician had made him sit up and had pressed under his collarbones, right? Mu-yeong thought to try it, but feared what would happen if he did it wrong.

Instead, the guardsman pushed him to sit up with a hand on his chest and rubbed gently, trying to get him to calm down, maybe if he calmed down he’d be able to breathe a little bit and give Mu-yeong time to _think—_

“It’s okay,” he soothed, doing his best to reign in his own raging panic.

The tiniest bit of air crackled in the prince’s lungs and the young man held tightly to Mu-yeong’s wrist as he tried again to breathe, managing another small inhale.

“That’s it. Just breathe, it’s okay.”

_Please don’t die please don’t die…_

Again, he thought to call for a physician. He would never forgive himself if the prince died on his watch (neither would the King).

But the prince had commanded him not to. Ever would he obey.

Slowly, painfully so, the prince’s breathe came easier. Mu-yeong chided him gently as he gasped for breath, fearing a relapse.

“Slowly, your Highness,” he said, rubbing the prince’s back as he continued to calm down, tears dripping from his cheeks and onto the mat in front of him.

Mu-yeong couldn’t imagine how terrifying such an event must be.

Eventually the prince pulled away from him, shame coloring his face even in the dark as he scrubbed the tears off his face.

Mu-yeong gave him his space and bowed respectfully before sinking into a kneel, eyes fixed on the floor as his heart ached.

“I wish your Highness would tell me what distresses you so…so that I may assist,” he murmured, thinking again on how the prince’s demeanor had changed since the departure of Lord Ahn.

_I would do anything to help you, please just tell me so I can!_

The prince only stared miserably at the far wall before he laid down in bed, his back to Mu-yeong, a clear dismissal.

Mu-yeong sighed and departed.

The young man looked like hell the next morning. It didn’t appear as if he’d slept at all (though Mu-yeong suspected he rarely did). The circles under his eyes had darkened to the point where Mu-yeong nearly asked if someone had beaten him during the night, his skin was sallow, and his mood quite dark. He barely spoke all morning.

He did, however, drag Mu-yeong on a ride later that afternoon.

“So soon after what happened last time?”

The prince glared at him.

Once out in the fields and well out of earshot of anyone else, the young royal turned to him.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

Ice ran down Mu-yeong’s spine as he spluttered, “Because your Highness told me never to call the court physician under any circumstances—“

“That’s not what I meant,” the prince growled. “You and I both know there are a good many people who would pay you a lot of money for information like that. Why didn’t you tell them?”

_We know one or two people who would pay a lot of money for his life._

_I’m not safe here._

“Because it concerns _you_ , your Highness, and I would never reveal such information for any price.” Fixed with the prince’s mistrustful glare, Mu-yeong wanted to cry. “Did your Highness think I would?”

The prince deflated then and looked away from him sharply, exhaustion making him sag in his saddle.

Mu-yeong pulled his horse to a stop. “We should head back. Your Highness is exhausted. You need to rest.”

But the prince was off across the field at a full gallop before Mu-yeong even had time to blink. The guard sighed heavily and went after him.

Just another day at work.

*******

When his wife first told him she was pregnant, Mu-yeong had been over the moon. Absolutely nothing could get him down, nothing at all. He did everything for her, got her anything she asked for. He even learned how to cook, something she found particularly amusing.

“But the cook at the palace told me to do it like this!” he cried miserably as his wife laughed good-naturedly from her seat on the floor as he struggled.

Very quickly though, things went downhill. She grew very sick (morning sickness, the village midwife called it) and could barely keep anything down. Mu-yeong begged off several days of work to take care of her, patiently attempting to feed her small mouthfuls of rice and sips of green tea.

“Please try and eat something, dear, you’ll feel better with food in your stomach,” he told her, echoing her own words to him many years ago when he had been terribly ill with a sickness from the water. “At least drink something.”

But all of his efforts, and the efforts of the wives of his kind neighbors, were in vain. She began to lose weight rapidly and had to give up her beloved job as a seamstress.

“She needs to try to drink as much as possible so she does not become dehydrated,” the midwife told him when he called her again. “And eat a little bit of something any day, whatever she can keep down. When she does feel well enough to eat, she must eat high quality food to sustain herself for the periods where she cannot.”

Mu-yeong nodded firmly and spent the rest of the day pouring over their records, slicing and cutting their budget to allow for the maximum amount of his pay to go towards food.

But the kingdom had been hit with a terrible famine and any food besides rice and green tea was terribly expensive. Even with Mu-yeong’s penny pinching, he couldn’t afford the food his wife needed.

So he stole it.

_I will not tolerate you stealing from me again_ , the prince had said.

Mu-yeong thought about asking the prince for help, but whenever he did his pride flared so hotly he abandoned the idea. After everything his wife had put up with from him, he couldn’t even _feed her_ and it killed him.

So against his good conscience and better judgement, he stole from the prince.

“If you could eat anything in the world,” he would ask his bedridden wife every morning, “what would you eat?”

Whatever she told him, he got the closest thing to it. Most of the time she asked for fruit. Pears, pomegranates. Other things like seaweed. He started swiping a few sweets every now and again for her too, and the prince never said a word.

Mu-yeong wondered if he even noticed. The guardsman was very careful, had taken to wearing his robes a bit loosely so as to hide what he swiped in the folds and have them remain undiscovered. And he always waited until the prince was finished eating and distracted to take the food. Luckily for Mu-yeong, the prince still didn’t have much of an appetite.

One evening, same as every evening (he had gotten bold, he would admit it. His wife was finally getting color back in her cheeks and would eat all he brought her so he would bring her as much as he could), he snuck into the prince’s rooms.

The young man was fast asleep at his desk.

_Good_ , the guardsman thought. Not only did that make swiping (he hated calling it stealing) easier, but the prince needed it.

His first mistake was not watching where his feet were. His second…well, was stealing at all. Because the prince caught him.

He would never forget the shock of looking up from picking a cookie up off the ground to see the now _very_ awake prince leaning over the desk and staring at him. He nearly died on the spot.

“Y-your Highness…” he stuttered before falling quickly into a bow. He heard the prince sigh heavily and sit back.

“Your Highness, I know I’ve committed a grave error and I must beg you for your forgiveness—“

“I told you once before I wouldn’t tolerate you stealing from me again,” the prince said tiredly, voice monotone and disappointed. “Pears, pomegranates, cookies, fish, beef cakes —those are your favorite aren’t they—…shall I go on?”

Mu-yeong shivered. The prince knew every damn thing he had stolen.

“It’s so hard to remember everything, you’ve stolen so much from me as of late.”

Mu-yeong could feel the prince’s eyes on him as he struggled to find words. The prince beat him to it.

“As I told you before and I thought you would have learned this by now, I know everything that goes on in the palace. When I noticed you stealing again, I decided to let it go. I know you to be a prideful man, Mu-yeong, so I thought that if I just gave you time, you would come to me and explain yourself. But it has been two months and your grow bolder by the day with no intention of ceasing.”

“Your Highness, I deserve to be executed for touching your table—“

“Spare me such sentiments and explain yourself,” the prince scoffed.

“It was all for my wife,” he said quietly, voice shaking as he stared at the floor in front of him. “She supported me for years as I worked to pass the state test—“

“I remember.”

“She is now pregnant, and took very ill early on. The midwife counseled me that she must eat high-quality food if she and our child are to survive. I pinched every penny I could, I even sold things around our house, but I could not find the money to buy her the food she needed in the face of this famine.” Pain tore at his heart and he grit his teeth against it as he went on. “You are correct, your Highness, I am a prideful man and the thought that I could not provide for her after she provided for me for so long was too much for me to bear. Still, it was wrong of me steal and I am very sorry…”

“Do you truly take them home for your wife?”

Four years he had spent nearly every minute of every day with the prince and _still_ the man was wary of him.

“ _Yes_ , your Highness!” he replied, voice strained. _I know you don’t trust me, I know you don’t trust anyone but please believe me…_ “I would never lie to you about anything! I have never lied to you!”

The prince was silent for a long moment. “Has your wife’s health improved?”

It took the guardsman a moment to process the sudden change of focus. “…Yes, your Highness…”

He heard the prince sigh heavily before he spoke again. “From now on…” he said slowly. “You must make sure to try it yourself before you give it to her. ”

Slowly, Mu-yeong raised his head. “What do you mean by that, your Highness?” he stammered. “May I…may I still bring food back to my wife?”

The prince regarded him for a long moment before standing to look out the window. “Let’s say that I allow it,” he offered. “I need you to do something for me in return.”

“Anything, your Highness!”

“I want your loyalty.”

Mu-yeong frowned where he remained kneeling. “That is my duty as your personal guard, your Highness. Of course I will be loyal.”

“No matter what comes or the circumstances therein, I want your loyalty through it all. Can you do that?”

It was in that moment that Mu-yeong knew something big was going to happen. What or when, he had no idea, but it didn’t matter in the slightest.

“Your Highness,” Mu-yeong said, affection warming his voice and his smile. “The only reason I stand here before you today is because of the mercy and generosity you showed me four years ago. My wife is alive today to be morning sick because of your kindness. Ever since that day you have had my loyalty through thick and thin, and so long as there is breath in my body I will be loyal to you.”

The prince smiled a full smile, one that reached his eyes. Mu-yeong had never seen the prince smile like that before.

“What does your wife like to eat?”

Mu-yeong’s heart was full. “Recently she has been able to eat fruit, though I have been trying to coax some meat or fish into her with some rice.”

The prince nodded.

“Though truly, Mu-yeong,” the prince warned him before he left. “Taste the food before you give it to your wife. Lest someone try to poison me only to...” Something terrible flickered through the prince’s eyes then, but was extinguished before the guardsman could make much note of it. The prince swallowed heavily. “Miss their target,” he finished, voice carefully neutral.

Mu-yeong nodded firmly.

That night, Mu-yeong went home with enough food for both him and his for dinner, breakfast, and lunch for his wife the following day. With him also he brought the prince’s promise that he was doing everything he could to provide relief for the people in this time of famine (which Mu-yeong knew well enough from waiting outside the council chambers and listening to the vicious shouting matches).

“We are blessed, dear husband!” he wife said with a wide smile, the first in weeks.

“Yes,” he replied with the same smile. “We are blessed.”

So, so quickly did he eat his words.

*******

Mere months after he had pledged his undying loyalty to the prince, the Haewon Cho clan quite literally brought him to his knees.

The prince had always hated the commander Beom-Il, only son of the despised Lord Cho. Mu-yeong felt that hatred personally as the commander stalked around him like a predator stalks his prey.

“It’s a very simple request, Mu-yeong,” the man hummed dangerously.

Mu-yeong grit his teeth and stared at the floor, hands clenched into fists on top of his thighs. “If you wish to know what the prince does on a day to day basis, why don’t you ask him yourself?”

The commander sat down in front of him in a lazy posture, swiping Mu-yeong’s short sword from him an examining the blade.

“I heard how you protected the prince from assassins almost a year ago now.”

_Have something to do with that, did you?_

“The world is so dangerous these days. Anyone could find themselves mugged and murdered.”

Mu-yeong seethed as the commander leaned forward.

“I should think a pregnant woman would be especially at risk.”

On pure instinct, Mu-yeong lunged for him. The commander caught him by the throat, stopping him dead in his tracks.

“Ah ah ah,” he drawled with a lazy, vicious smile. “None of that now.” He shoved Mu-yeong back into a seated position. “Where does he go, who does he see?,” he singsonged condescendingly. “That’s all I’m asking. Do it, and your wife and unborn child live long and happy lives. Don’t and, well…”

Mu-yeong grit his teeth. What was he to do when forced to choose between bad things and worse things?

For months after that he searched for a time to tell the prince, to report himself, to hell with what happened to him.

In the depths of his despair late one night, he had even considered telling the prince in front of the entire court before promptly committing suicide so his wife and child couldn’t be used to make an example out of him (he always found it funny how much weight the word of a dead man held, no matter what class he was from). He would have done it too, if he hadn’t thought the Cho clan would kill his family anyway just to spite his dead soul.

His paranoia nearly reached the prince’s levels, and with good reason. The clan had moles _everywhere_. Now that he was officially their _spy_ (he spit), the eyes were everywhere. Court ladies, eunuchs, guards, councilmen always watching him in ways they never had before. Shadowy figures followed him home at night, watching his every move.

There was no way out.

...Then again, there was always sabotage.

He began providing them with the vaguest information possible, turning himself into a shitty guard and a terrible friend just so he could avoid giving them information.

“You said he was going to a meeting this morning. With whom did he meet?” Beom-Il asked him one day, having wrangled Mu-yeong into his office once more.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Mu-yeong said lazily. “I overslept and was late to work this morning.”

“You said that last week,” the commander growled.

The guardsman merely shrugged. “What can I say, I’ve picked up some bad habits as of late.”

He walked out with a split lip, but as far as he was concerned, it was worth it.

As he played his games, he told his wife to be as unpredictable as possible.

“But why?” she asked him, concern drawing lines on her delicate face.

“I cannot say, my dear,” he said with a heavy heart. “But please, I beg of you, heed me in this.”

It was a temporary solution and a painful, anxiety-inducing one. But he would keep it up for as long as he could.

Then the prince committed outright treason.

Why he did it, Mu-yeong would never understand (weeks later, out on the road, the prince would attempt to explain it to him. He still didn’t understand). But with that, Mu-yeong was forced to make a choice between his best friend, the man he had come to think of as almost a surrogate son, and his wife and child.

What could he do?

_He’s strong and smart_ , he told himself as he dropped his wife off at the Queen’s residence, the sharpest piece of blackmail he had ever encountered. _He’ll survive. He’ll save us all. I’ll make sure of it._

When he walked away that night, some small part of him knew he would never see his beloved wife again.

*******

On the road to Dongnae, the prince told him everything. His plot to commit treason and his reasons for doing so. How and why he had come to depend on Lord Ahn like a father. How his father the King had been well and truly bound (Mu-yeong noted his conflicting anger and understand). The depth of his fears that the Cho clan had now killed his father and were stalling until the Queen could give birth.

On the road to Dongnae, as the prince slept soundly by the fire like he hadn’t in years ( _I’m safer out here than I ever was in Hanyang_ , he had said), Mu-yeong let a few silent tears slip down his cheeks.

He let himself be the butt of the prince’s jokes (his heart ached as the prince laughed and smiled), and he joked right along with him.

“If we do not arrive within 30 minutes,” the prince quipped with a grin. “I will annihilate your entire family”

Mu-yeong rolled his eyes. It was only the tenth time he had made that joke in the span of a day. “Do you truly enjoy jesting about that?”

“I do.”

_I have my friend back_ , a voice in Mu-yeong’s mind whispered and it broke his heart. _After all this time, I have my friend back._

_My best friend_.

It didn’t stay that way for very long.

First it was the bodies and then the monsters, then the prince was no longer the prince, but the _King_ and he blamed himself for every death in Dongnae.

_I am committing treason against the King_ , he thought as fought for their lives. _But damnit on my life he will live._

Through thick and thin, monsters and madness, Mu-yeong risked his life to save his friend.

He stayed behind to fight for him. He leapt from a cart to decapitate a monster mere seconds before it tore out the prince’s throat, and the prince _ran back for him_ , dragging him to his feet and pulling him to safety.

Ever since he had sworn his loyalty, the prince trusted him. Trusted him, _relied_ on him, and refused to leave him behind, _ever._

Mu-yeong had worked for four entire years to gain his trust, only to betray him once he had it and that _killed_ him.

Through thick and thin, he proved himself time and again to be the leader Joseon needed. Pride swelled in Mu-yeong even as his heart blackened and died.

Mu-yeong tried so hard to play both worlds, but he couldn’t. He relied heavily on his own skill to protect the prince in the face of the enemy being one step ahead of them due to his own treason, but it wasn’t enough.

As he watched shell shock glaze over the prince’s eyes already weighed down by decades of suffering, he realized he had never been able to keep him safe.

In the end, the prince figured it out himself.

Mu-yeong hated his newfound campaign to ruin the relationship between Lord Ahn and the prince. While Mu-yeong hadn’t liked Lord Ahn since he all but abandoned the prince all those years ago, what Mu-yeong was now doing was worse and secretly he hoped the powerful southern Lord would be able to save them all from Mu-yeong’s mistakes.

It was that that gave him away.

“Why are you sharing this information with me?” the prince asked, cutting off Mu-yeong’s artfully spun story about the monsters. For once, Mu-yeong had been telling him the truth about what he heard, just not why he thought they should leave (he hadn’t known what he would do if the prince agreed, he would stall he supposed and hope the monsters solved their five armies problem for them, but the city was going to be overrun and—)

“Your Highness?”

The prince turned to looked at him, face artfully neutral. The same one he always used at court. “Did Cho Hak-ju command you to do it?”

Well, that was it. Mu-yeong’s heart shattered, robbing him of any and all denials Beom-Il had drilled into him for months.

The guards Mu-yeong had given information to had made a gamble on Lord Ahn betraying the prince and lost, and the Lord had warned the prince of a traitor. In that sense, the Lord had saved the prince from Mu-yeong’s failures. What destroyed the guardsman was the knowledge that the Lord would not be strong enough to stand against the five armies and the monsters alone.

At Mu-yeong’s silence, he watched the prince’s eyes water.

“So then…you are trying to sow doubt between Lord Ahn and myself—“

He almost admitted it. He nearly fell to his knees and spilled everything, begging the prince to understand that everything he had done he had done for his family, that he had tried to play both sides and had _failed_ , that he—

_His wife would die if he did._

_They would know. They always know._

In his desperation and anguish, he went for the jugular, tearing up himself as he did. “Your Highness, you assume you cannot trust me now? I left everything, my pregnant wife, I left my _family_ to follow you. I’ve come all the way to Gyeongsang for _you_. And even now, you still don’t trust me?”

Something in the prince’s eyes cracked and then shattered, same as it had when he watched the little girl die at Jiyulheon.

For years, Mu-yeong had done everything to protect him from the evils of the world. Now, as the prince stood riddled with stress from the unending threat of sudden death for three decades, and the trauma of this war, the lives he had taken, and the blood he considered to be on his hands, Mu-yeong had just taken the prince’s biggest insecurity and used it against him for his own gain. And the prince knew it.

Perhaps it was only fitting that the one to hold him up would eventually be the one to tear him down.

*******

Everything he had done, every terrible thing, hadn’t mattered in the end. That terrible realization settled in as soon as the physician explained the bark to him. His family’s lives had been forfeit the second the Cho clan set their eyes on him. There was never anything he could do about it.

They shot him full of arrows (it simultaneously didn’t hurt nearly as bad as he’d feared and more than he ever could have imagined) and he used every ounce of his skill supplemented with unearthly rage to take as many of them down with him as he could. He managed most of them.

It cost him his life, but it always would have, so it didn’t matter.

He staggered out into the woods after the guards had stolen away the Cho magistrate and the physician, along with Lord Cho ( _curse his name, may he die in agony_ , Mu-yeong spit). He wasn’t sure what he was looking for.

When he could go no further, he dropped to his knees, shoulder resting against a tree trunk.

_So this is where I die_ , he thought dully. _This is how I die._

For some reason, he had always thought the prince would be by his side when he did finally pass.

_I’m so sorry…_

“MU-YEONG!”

Everything seemed very far away by then, but he still heard the agonized shriek. He couldn’t (and didn’t) believe his eyes as he watched the figure of the prince race towards him so quickly he fell flat on his face before scrambling the rest of the way. He didn’t believe it until the prince carefully moved him to lean against his chest. Face pressed into the prince’s blood-crusted robes, he believed it.

_I did this for you once, when you couldn’t breathe…_ he thought, listening as the young man drew in panicked breath after panicked breath. That terrible rattle was there in his lungs under Mu-yeong’s ear, _breathe, your Highness, it’s okay…_

“Your Highness,” he whispered as the prince sobbed openly into his hair, screaming for help, please someone help him—

Mu-yeong knew he was beyond help.

_Don’t cry over me. I’m not worth crying over._

The prince hadn’t cried over his father, though perhaps he had been too stunned. Neither had the prince cried over Lord Ahn, though no amount of tears could have eased the pain of decapitating two people who were family to him in the span of a day.

And here the prince sat, holding him as he died, sobbing his heart out.

The prince cried for no one but him.

Mu-yeong held on long enough to get out the physician’s story about the Queen, long enough to apologize from the depths of his slowing heart.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed. “For all my foolishness, I’m so sorry…

“No no no, don’t leave me, please,” the prince sobbed, rocking him slowly. “I forgive you, I’d forgive you for anything, just please don’t leave me...”

“I’m so sorry that I couldn’t protect you…until the very end…”

The prince had his face buried in the guardsman’s blood soaked hair as his breath came in harsh, gasping pants. “ _I can’t I can’t I can’t , no, I can’t…_ ”

Everything was starting to get very cold and very dark. “Yes you can,” he breathed with his last breath. _If anyone can, you can._

It was then that the tiger-hunter, Yeong-shin stepped into his field of vision, staying out at a respectful distance though he looked on with sympathy.

Mu-yeong hadn’t liked him. The young man was impulsive, dangerous, and unpredictable. But he was also loyal to a fault and unburdened, with no one left in his life for anyone to use to control him.

Maybe most of Mu-yeong’s dislike of him had stemmed from envy.

In recent days, Mu-yeong had seen him looking at the prince with something like adoration. With something Mu-yeong would almost call love, if he didn’t know better. In recent days, he had seen the prince look at the tiger-hunter with something bordering on affection as well.

_You take care of him,_ he thought as his vision grew dark.

With Mu-yeong gone, and his father and Lord Ahn dead as well, who else would?

_I failed you. I’m so sorry…_

The prince held his hand as he died.

***********

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow that got intense…I’m not sure why I’m surprised considering the first thing I wrote in my notes for this chapter was “make this hurt” 
> 
> Couple things: 
> 
> First: that scene with the concubines? Yeah I pulled that straight outta Marco Polo, I don’t know if that’s a thing that happened in Korea at the time, or if it was a Mongol thing only but I am a poor excuse for a historian so we’re gonna say it happened. 
> 
> Second: IM SORRY I COULDN'T HELP THE MANDALORIAN REFERENCE OK IT WAS PERFECT


	4. Of Flaws and Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeong-shin's POV of the events in season 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, I knew my applying my knowledge of Chinese and Mongol history to Korea combined with my knowledge of not even a single word of Korean would get me into trouble eventually and here we are! The lovely gienuslab recently pointed out to me that single braid down the back does not in fact mean unmarried girl in Joseon Korea and thus Yeong-shin has a brother and not a sister in canon. My mistake! -sweats- She's still gonna be a girl in this fic tho
> 
> Also I just wanted to say that I am absolutely blown away by the reception this fic has received and I love you all!!! I hope this update lives up to expectations <3333

*********** ****

Yeong-shin didn’t remember making it back to the room he and the others had been shown to. He didn’t remember clambering over four sleeping men to get to the open spot on the floor and he didn’t remember falling asleep. As he slept, he dreamt of nothing.

And for the briefest moment when he opened his eyes, the peace of sleep still easing the tension in his bones, he forgot what had happened. He forgot the monsters, the deaths, the pain, the…everything.

The man next to him had another snuggled tight to his back, an arm thrown over his waist. Sleep slowly clearing from his eyes, he felt a pang of jealousy.

That had been one thing he hadn’t minded about being a soldier. Cramming ten men into a tent meant for four, huddling together for warmth during the winter, the comfort of waking up with someone pressed to your back, your face buried in another’s shoulder…

He shifted ever so slightly and the skin on his shoulders stung.

_The prince’s nails digging into his back, thighs tight around his waist you’ll hurt him I know there was blood on his cock there was blood on theirs too stop it STOP IT—_

Bile bubbled up his throat and Yeong-shin was forced to sit up and put his head between his knees to stop himself from vomiting.

 _Deep breaths_ , he told himself, focusing on the feeling of the air rushing in and out of his nose. Nausea slowly abating and leaving a black mist in its wake, Yeong-shin took stock of where he was.

Five men packed into a space meant for one, two at most. Servants’ quarters then. Servants of the Lord of Sangju. He had traveled here with—

_The prince, curling in on himself, burying his face in his hands as Yeong-shin blamed him for what had happened, God, had he done that?_

_You ruin everything you touch._

He shivered, violently forcing images he didn’t care to see from his mind and wishing his past self had had the good sense to just stay awake through the night.

(It wasn’t that he hated sleeping. He just hated waking up.)

 _I need some air_.

Carefully rising to his feet, he grabbed his rifle where he had put it behind his head (he had wrapped it before he slept. Yet another thing he didn’t remember doing) and crept outside.

The early morning light had yet to warm the still crisp air as he made his way through the streets to the outer wall. He wasn’t sure where he was going.

_Away from here._

_A walk. A break. Some air, that’s all he needed._

_As if that would erase what you’ve done._

He picked up his pace, breath frosting the air in the early morning sun.

_You hurt him. You hurt him for your own gain. You are just like them you stupid foolish fucking—_

He was walking towards the city wall anyway, so he committed to it. Up and over and he breathed a little easier.

Even so, his mind gave him no respite.

Memories —awful, harrowing, _dreadful_ memories— that had previously been locked safely away in the dark recesses of his mind now seemed to reign free. Flashes of blood, crimes, screams, pain, terror—

He was halfway home before he realized it.

_Home. Sumang._

How long had it been since he’d been back?

The steps were familiar, how many times had he walked them? Going to town to barter for food, medicine, to work, to hunt or fish (poach, even then)...

His steps strayed from their well-worn path as he noticed a monument someone had erected in the middle of it. He couldn’t read it, but he knew well enough what it was: a monument to some battle in that godforsaken war…

He spit at the foot of it and kept walking.

Ever since he’d left, he had berated himself for always wishing for adventure, to go far away from his sleepy little village on the edge of the river. Life there had not been good, stricken with poverty, sickness, misery, and oppression…but it had been home. Life had been simple and he had been part of a community. One that gave a shit about what happened to him. That was a foreign feeling now.

_He had thought he knew pain and suffering…_

Walking amongst the broken down huts, he could remember every step he took amongst them. The couple that lived there. The boy and his brothers who lived there, they had been friends. And…

And his own home. The last time he saw his sister.

She had begged, _begged_ , for him not to go, though it wasn’t as if he’d had a choice. The army had conscripted him, as they had every able-bodied half-grown boy or man in Sangju.

As far as he knew, of the few semi-able boys they had managed to pull from Sumang Village, he was the only one who had made it out alive.

For years he had done anything he had to to stay alive.

He sat down heavily on a fallen log and stared at his hands, blinking as his vision grew fuzzy around the edges and he felt as though he was watching his life play out on stage.

_Is this alive?_

_“Come back!”_ his sister had screamed. “ _You have to come back!”_

He could remember the day they told him everyone he had ever known was dead. Oh how he had _screamed_ and fought, it had taken six soldiers to restrain him. They had thrown him in a haphazard cell made for prisoners of war to cool off (he hadn’t cooled off until he joined the Chakho after the war ended).

Yeong-shin didn’t remember much from those days. What little he did was tinged red with fury. How could they? How could they have sacrificed _sick, innocent_ people…

_The Japanese would have killed them anyway. If they were lucky they would have died. If they weren’t they would have been enslaved and sold off. Your sister would have been just the right age—_

His hands were wet, was that him crying? He wasn’t sure.

After the war, he had sought out the commanders who had decided his family would die. Lord Cho and Lord Ahn. Those names had been seared into his memory.

Lord Cho wouldn’t see him. The guards threatened to throw him in prison if he didn’t leave immediately. He refused to leave and they threw him in prison, but he broke out and went to find Lord Ahn. That Lord wouldn’t see him either.

In the end he had accosted Lord Ahn on the streets of Sangju, leaping from the rafters and knocking him clean off his horse, wrestling him to the ground and demanding to know _why_ and _where did you bury them? Did you bury them?!_

The slash of tens of blades behind him reached his ears and he accepted that this was where he was going to die, but the Lord held up a hand, stopping the guards in their tracks.

Yeong-shin’s breath had been heaving by then and he was half out of his mind with grief and rage. “ _Where are they? What did you do with them?”_

The Lord had stared at him, tearsof _agony_ in eyes. “My boy, I am _so sorry…_ ” His voice had cracked at the end and he spoke no more.

Yeong-shin had stayed there, paralyzed for a moment longer before he shoved the Lord away from him and walked away, something in him breaking beyond repair.

At the behest of their Lord, the guards had let him go.

The Chakho man who recruited him had been sitting in a tree on the road out of town. Yeong-shin hadn’t seen him there. He hadn’t known where he’d been going when he was stopped.

“You’ve got some skill, boy,” the man, rough and old, maybe 40 had drawled after jumping out of the tree and landing directly in front of Yeong-shin, scaring the shit out of him and prompting a brief scuffle ending in a stalemate. “Saw what you did back there. You got some guts, too. And some anger. Veteran like you would, though. That’s good. We can work with that.”

Yeong-shin had pushed him away and kept on walking only to hear the man yell, “Want a job?”

The rest is another story.

His hands were shaking when he stood up and kept walking, leaving Sumang Village with no intention of ever returning.

He took a different route on the way back, one that had previously been untraveled. It was a scenic walk, even at the start of winter, one that had always calmed him down as a boy…

He stared at the beaten-down grass under his feet, musing on how much could change in the span of three years. This path was well-traveled now.

He came around a bend and saw why.

That graveyard had not been there before. Heaps covered with straw, names written on posts, incense left burning.

Yeong-shin looked around warily, briefly reaching for his rifle as he scanned the area for potential threats. Finding none, he relaxed.

Whatever this place was, someone kept it well maintained.

He moved closer.

Most of the names he couldn’t read. A poor laborer turned soldier turned poacher never had much opportunity to learn how to read. Previously, he had only known how to write his original name (he had long since forgotten the strokes), and that of his sister’s—

His eyes fixed on one of the graves a ways back. Unlike all the others, those characters were familiar to him. How many times had he written it for her?

He fell to his knees in front of it, overwhelmed by the _agony_ that gripped him. His breath came in hard dry sobs as his eyes remained fixed on the characters, but no tears fell.

Something in him had broken so badly he could no longer cry.

“I came back,” he choked out, reaching to touch the post. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry...”

*******

He didn’t remember walking back to the city (he kept losing time, that was bad. That was very bad. That was the kind of shit that got a man killed).

_Pull yourself together._

It was mid-afternoon by the time he got back, and the city was swarming with people.

He blinked, disoriented.

_Pull your head out of your ass and figure it out._

Yeong-shin eventually found someone who could tell him what the hell was going on. Or rather, someone found him.

“You are Yeong-shin, correct?”

Yeong-shin blinked at the guard who had appeared out of nowhere ( _distracted, it’ll get you killed_ ) and slunk back a half step, wary of this man he did not know but who knew him.

“The prince asked me to keep an eye out for you. You are to train some of the other guards to shoot.”

The guard brought him then to a narrow strip of land about a mile outside the city, where a barricade was being constructed.

“This is happening at every path into the city,” the guard told him when he asked. “To fend off the monsters.”

Yeong-shin looked out over the men working, at the pit being dug, the wooden wall being erected…

This wasn’t gonna do shit.

Still, it was better than nothing. 

Yeong-shin saw him then. Standing there on the other side of the road, the prince was talking to Lord Ahn.

_The taste of his skin in Yeong-shin’s mouth, the scrape of his nails on Yeong-shin’s back, the feeling of the prince’s firm but soft chest under his hands, the brush of the prince’s hands along his own chest, the hiss in his ear and the moans too—_

He thought of the people crowded into the city. Farmers, peasants, day laborers, all manner of people many would say had no place in the citadel of Sangju…

 _He accepted refugees into the city. He has every able bodied man, gentry and peasant, working side by side to save us all_.

Far away, a potent mixture of warmth and pain burned in his chest. He couldn’t really feel it.

_Fucked up a good thing, didn’t you?_

The afternoon passed by in a blur.

“When aiming a gun, you must keep the muzzle, the barrel, and the arm in as straight a line as you can.”

He fired a shot and the men oohed and ahed at his marksmanship.

He had them set up their shots.

“Take aim,” he instructed.

_“No.” His mentor adjusted his aim. “Not the tiger. Shoot him.”_

“Fire!”

The litany of guns fired and Yeong-shin flinched _hard_.

_He shot him. Right in the forehead. That shot rang in his ears for days, despite all the people he had killed in the war._

Only one of the men had hit something. The problem was that ‘something’ was five feet to the right of what he was supposed to be aiming for.

His chest ached. They would all be out on boats, but if at any point a shot would determine whether they lived or died, they were all dead.

“Reload,” he commanded, a shiver running down his spine that was soon replaced by a flare of anger. This was ridiculous, he hadn’t flinched at a gunshot since his first battle and he hadn’t been troubled by daytime flashbacks since he joined the Chakho. What the fuck was wrong with him.

It was then that he noticed the two men in white staring at him. He recognized one as Lord Ahn. He didn’t know who the other one was, nor did he care.

He thought of the graves. Well-maintained, but it didn’t matter what they did for the dead, only what thy had done to the living.

_Murderers._

His ears rang, vision blurring in a way that threatened to take him away from the present.

_No. Enough of this shit._

He ripped open the pack of gunpowder with his teeth and set out to load the weapon as fast as he could.

_One._

Pour in the gunpowder, put in the bullet.

_Two._

Pack it down. Cock the weapon. Aim. (He picked a hard target, far away, a tough shot even for him with the current wind).

_Three._

Fire.

The crack of a gun went. He lowered it, waiting for the smoke to clear.

The men around him cheered. He had hit it dead on.

_The past is the past, boy. Nothing can be done about it. Keep its lessons, but let it die._

The prince was standing next to Lord Ahn, watching him shoot.

His heart gave one last twinge and he looked away.

He had done what he had done and he was just going to have to live with that, now wasn’t he? That’s what the Chakho had taught him.

His lip curled as he reloaded, unhurried this time.

The Chakho had saved his life after the war, had given him an outlet for his rage and pain, had taught him how to control it. Then they had turned around and heaped more pain on him than he knew how to bear, so he had taught himself how to to lock it all away, never to see the light of day again. He had been trying to ignore that last part for years, but everything they had done was truly unforgivable.

He wasn’t sure he cared to follow their advice any longer.

*******

The night was long, cold, dark, and damp. His _favorite_ mix...

He bore it, focusing on the line of mountains in front of him, searching for any sign of an incoming horde of monsters. The only thing that showed up was a horse with only a hand attached to the reins.

Whispers of “Monsters!” flittered around, but Yeong-shin wasn’t so sure. Perhaps he was too far away to see, especially in the firelight, but that cut looked too clean.

The prince ordered the fires lit anyway.

Yeong-shin was honestly surprised he was standing.

_When they’d left him alone he’d lain there for what seemed like hours, unable to to bring himself to move, even to right his torn clothes. He was dead and his soul had left his body. They had killed him in the worst way possible. There are one or two things that are worse than death, boy, that’s what his mentor had said once and this, this was worse, this was hell, this…_

Fires lit, spears in place, door shut, anchor secured, gun loaded, he listed in his head, focusing back on the mountains. They would be here soon.

But they weren’t.

The sun rose uneventfully and Yeong-shin was well and truly stunned.

“Get some sleep,” the prince told them all. “And be back by midday to rebuild the pyres and continue reinforcing the barrier.”

They pulled the boats in and Yeong-shin was looking forward to getting back on solid ground and for the sun to rise more to warm the chill out of his bones—

The ground was not supposed to shake like that. An earthquake, he wondered, but it didn’t quite feel like one…

He turned towards the mountains in time to see an enormous flock of birds lift out of the trees, for the trees and brush to begin shaking in a formation moving towards them...

_Oh no._

And they had just extinguished the fires.

Everyone just stood there, himself included, frozen in utter shock because the monsters were _out in the sunlight!_

“So this is where we die,” someone whispered.

Shaking himself, Yeong-shin growled, “No! Not today.”

*******

For many of them, it must have been their first real battle because they moved _so slowly_ , terror making their movements halting and shaky and driving their minds away.

A good few of them died for it.

Yeong-shin just barely got the boats separated in time (he had been debating his odds of surviving a quick swim in freezing water. They had not been good). He watched the shoreline float away from them, trying not to think about the men he had leapt over to the back section of the raft.

 _They would all be dead if he hadn’t_.

And then they watched, completely helpless, as the sheer number of monsters flattened the barricade and those who had been manning it fled back towards the walled city.

_Even if the fires had been lit, it wouldn’t have made a difference._

A part of Yeong-shin ached as he looked down at his feet, wondering if the prince had made it out alive.

One of the men behind him whimpered sharply, and they all turned in time to see him lift his bloody hand, the distinctive ring of a human bite standing out on the side of his hand. The men crowded towards the back end of the raft in fright as Yeong-shin fought his way to the front, shouting at them to _calm down_ , they were going to capsize the raft—

The man begged for his life, saying that it was just a small bite, maybe it would be fine. Yeong-shin scrambled to think of some solution, they couldn’t just stand there and wait for him to _die_ …

He had just been about to suggest they try amputating the hand in an attempt to control the spread of infection when one of the other men jabbed his pole into the bitten man’s chest, pushing him off the raft.

He couldn’t swim.

The other men watched, frozen in fear and relief that it wasn’t them and the bitten man’s choking, dying screams for help —for _mercy—_ grated on Yeong-shin’s raw, bleeding soul until the shields of apathy he had been erecting for years failed completely.

He couldn’t watch. He looked away, only barely resisting the urge to cover his ears (just days ago he had taken out half a company of palace guards to escape Jiyulheon, several of them with his bare hands).

How far he had fallen.

The drowning man gave one last shriek before disappearing completely beneath the surface of the water. Not long after that, the bubbles and ripples ceased.

Yeong-shin shook himself hard, grabbing a pole.

“What do we do now?” someone asked, frightened.

“Sangju’s our only option. If we can make it, there’s a path.”

“W-what if there are monsters there too?”

Yeong-shin threw a nasty look over his shoulder. “Would you rather stay out here and freeze?”

The other men started helping him push. One squeaked as his poll hit something solid and soft. Yeong-shin tried not to shudder.

Somehow they made it to the citadel without dying. That alone was a miracle. But coming up over the hill, they could see the monsters had already mobbed the front gate.

It appeared their luck was rapidly running out.

Those who had survived the fall of the barricade on land were there, too, making a run for what turned out to be a hidden gate just down an embankment.

_The prince was among them._

Yeong-shin ran faster.

They were almost there. Slipping in the mud as they sprinted down the path, the monsters far behind them, Yeong-shin could nearly taste the sense or relief, he could almost smell the relative safety…

The gate was locked. Sure, why not. That was about how this day was going.

From there, the time between reaching the gate only to find it locked and actually getting it open and fleeing inside was a blur.

He could remember the prince yelling to form a blockade, all of them scrambling, slipping, and falling as they heaved old barricades in front of them and fashioned rudimentary spears from half-rotted bamboo rods. Someone told him later that he had knocked a piece of wooden support off the wall of the trench and thrown it, along with himself, on top of a few monsters crawling through a hole in their makeshift barrier.

Sounded like something he would do, to be honest. Later, he would half wish he remembered doing it.

They fought well, but as more and more monsters mobbed them, it was clear their efforts wouldn’t hold for long.

The prince’s guard just barely got the gate in time.

Yeong-shin was the second-to-last one in, everyone in, hurry, _faster_. But when he tried to pull the gate shut, it wouldn’t close.

He pushed, pulled, and lifted with all his might, but the frame was broken.

 _The damn door wouldn’t shut_.

Just as he was beginning to well and truly _panic_ (if the monsters got through this gate all of Sangju was lost—) someone grabbed him roughly by the back of his tunic and bodily _flung_ him into the tunnel.

“ _Get_ inside!” the offender yelled, voice rough with something like pain and grief.

Yeong-shin went skidding in, and it was the _prince_ who caught him, who kept him from slipping in the mud and falling flat on his face. But instead of pushing him away, the prince’s hand clenched in the back of his tunic, holding him up as the hunter righted himself.

Yeong-shin didn’t have time to process it as he spun around to see who had thrown him and _why_.

“What’s going on?” he asked, breathless from exertion and staring in horror at one of the men in white still standing outside the gate.

He moved forward, to grab him, to bodily pull _him_ inside the tunnel, _what are you doing get inside and help us figure out how to shut this blasted gate—_

The prince’s guard stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“He can’t…” Mu-yeong whispered, horrified. 

Yeong-shin saw it then. The bite on the man’s hand.

Shaking, the man in white snatched the chain that had bound the door off the ground, wrapped it around his own waist and—

What could they do but watch as he yelled, “Guard and protect Lord Ahn! Now run!” and, with his short sword threaded through the chain links, stabbed himself in the gut.

_Made himself the lock._

And they watched, helplessly, as the monsters tore into his back. It must have been _agonizing._

Through all of it, he didn’t scream.

“W-we have to keep moving,” the prince’s guard stammered, stunned by the turn of events. “Get them off our trail…”

The prince was the first to wrench himself away from the gruesome scene. The others followed quickly behind him. Lord Ahn bowed to the man in gratitude for his sacrifice before he, too, followed the others.

Yeong-shin alone stayed, frozen in place.

_But he isn’t dead yet. That stab wound didn’t kill him._

_They’re eating him alive._

The Chakho comrade Yeong-shin had shot and killed in the jungle had been ‘mauled’ though perhaps it would be better described as half eaten. The tiger had torn into his abdomen, back, and chest before any one of them could shoot and kill it.

 _Oh how he had screamed_. _Then his screams had cut off as the tiger got at his lungs. That had been worse. Yeong-shin couldn’t bear to remember what that had sounded like._

He stared at the mud, listening as the man made those same sounds, spitting up blood as the monsters continued to tear him to pieces.

_The men in white killed your sister for their own gain. She was just a child._

_Yes._ _They did. But this…_ He pulled a knife out of his belt. _To let someone die like this is cruelty beyond measure._

The steps he took towards the man in white (red now) were slow and halting, everything in him begging him to leave and let him die like this, spare himself the pain of killing him.

_I bear the pain so others don’t have to._

_I can take it..._

“I’m sorry…” the man whispered as he approached, looking him in the eye, recognition flitting across his face.

Yeong-shin put his blade to the man’ throat, just under his jaw. He held it with both hands to stop it from shaking.

_This is what you wanted. You wanted to kill the men who killed your sister._

He hesitated, looking at the man’s anguished, dying face.

_This is what you wanted. He killed a child, he deserves to suffer._

Yeong-shin had to look away as he plunged the blade through the man’s throat and into his brain, putting him out of his misery.

_I bear all the pain so others don’t have to._

He pulled his knife out as the man choked, spitting out more blood before _finally_ he passed, head falling forward.

Yeong-shin retched.

_I have borne so much pain. I can’t carry any more._

He made his way back down the tunnel in a fog, the screams of the dead echoing behind him like phantoms.

*******

He wasn’t sure what happened to the day. It was as if he walked out of the tunnel, blinked, and then it was night. Apparently he had gotten washed up and someone had given him something to eat and drink, but he didn’t remember any of it.

He had been sitting somewhere amongst the houses losing even more time when the sound of an explosion echoed through the city.He took off running before he had even fully processed it.

For an undetermined amount of time he ran back and forth between the well and the burning warehouse ( _that held all the city’s food_ ). Sweat drenched his face and tunic, his arms ached and his lungs burned from the smoke, but still he worked. _They had to put it out they had to,_ burnt soggy rice was better than no rice at all—

Another small explosion occurred towards the back of the warehouse, the force of the blast reverberating through his chest cavity, and the structure collapsed.

That was it then. There was nothing more they could do. There was nothing left they could save.

Two men nearly died for it — _because Yeong-shin couldn’t put out the fire—_ but everyone was too sick of death to deal out such a punishment so they disappeared into the crowd, sobbing into their hands.

Everyone walked away shaken, hopelessness thicker in the air than the smoke.

*******

 _You couldn’t put out the fire_ , a voice in Yeong-shin’s head chattered as he walked through the dark streets of Sangju. _A lot of people are going to die because you couldn’t put out the fire._

_A lot of people are going to die because of what you did at Jiyulheon. What you forced people to do, tricked them into doing without their knowledge to uphold your selfish want to go on living._

_This is all your fault._

_What did the fire matter, this whole thing started because of you. You and your will to live and your willingness to hang people out to dry to go on living one more day. Your sister died because you couldn’t keep your promise to protect her._

Vaguely he realized he was shaking and crying where he leaned against the rock wall, face buried in his soot-stained hands.

 _You couldn’t protect your family, you couldn’t protect the sick at Jiyulheon, and you couldn’t protect these people. You are only causing them pain, God, why are_ you _still alive—_ ****

He felt a hand on his shoulder and before he knew it he had ripped his knife out of his sleeve and had launched both him and the person touching him across the alleyway, pinning the other person to the sharp rock wall, knife under their throat, a snarl on his face—

“Yeong-shin!”

He jerked at the sound of his name, eyes focusing in the dark.

“Yeong-shin…” the man under his hands whispered again, hands held up in surrender and that voice sounded familiar didn’t it—

 _Oh God_.

Yeong-shin shoved himself away, knife falling from his hands as his whole body quaked.

The prince stood up carefully from where Yeong-shin had pushed him against the wall, hands still held aloft.

Tears poured down Yeong-shin’s face freely then and he was losing it, every trick he had developed over three years to contain the shit that had happened to him was failing and it was _all_ hitting him at once and he couldn’t bear it, he couldn’t, he—

“Shhh, deep breaths, it’s alright...you’re alright...”

One of the prince’s hands was on his cheek, thumb gently brushing his tears away while the other rested on his breastbone, rubbing back and forth soothingly. Yeong-shin gaped up at him and the prince looked back, a small smile visible on his face even in the darkness. Yeong-shin couldn’t process this, he had _hurt_ him, grievously so, and now the prince was smiling at him, _comforting him_ …

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, breath coming in unsteady gasps. “I’m sorry—“

The prince bent down and kissed him.

Yeong-shin froze, utterly stunned for a split second before he grabbed tight to the front of the prince’s robes and kissed him back like he was a man drowning and the prince was air.

He didn’t understand. He couldn’t understand why the prince would do this, would want this from _him_ —

But the prince’s hands were grasping at him, holding him tight and he was pressing his mouth more firmly to Yeong-shin’s and the tiger hunter thought no more. 

The prince’s inexperience was obvious, but Yeong-shin couldn’t have cared less as he moved his lips against the prince’s unbelievably soft ones, waiting patiently for the other man to learn and catch up.

He would wait forever so long as he could go on kissing him.

It also became apparent rather quickly how fucking _tall_ the prince was compared to him and Yeong-shin broke away soon after, sick of craning his neck. The prince leaned after him, clearly hoping for another kiss and who was Yeong-shin to deny him.

Pulling the prince by the front of his robes, he walked himself backwards until he hit the short rock wall of the alley. Boosting himself up onto it to be at a more equal height with the prince, he hauled the other man between his thighs and took his face in his hands, brushing his thumbs over the silk straps of his gat (that wide brim would get in the way).

He toyed with where it was tied under the prince’s chin and when the other man didn’t stop him, pulled the knot loose. When the prince still didn’t object, Yeong-shin knocked the gat from his head and kissed him like it was the last thing he would ever do.

The prince surged forward to meet him, returning the kiss with equal fervor and setting Yeong-shin’s blood on fire. He licked into the prince’s mouth and the prince squeaked in surprise before apparently deciding he liked it, returning the motions passionately.

 _Damn, he learned fast._..

Yeong-shin wrapped one arm around the prince’s neck, pulling him closer while keeping the other hand on his cheek to tilt his head the right way. The prince in turn had his hands on Yeong-shin’s hips and thighs as he pressed himself as close as he could.

 _I must have died_ , Yeong-shin thought through the fog of pure bliss. _Because this is heaven._

“YOUR HIGHNESS?!” someone called off in the distance and the two men broke apart with a start. They stared at each other, both panting heavily as they caught their breath and cooled off a bit (it was going to take more than a breather to cool Yeong-shin off).

The voice in the distance yelled again for the prince and Yeong-shin ducked his head, motioning vaguely that the prince should go.

In his peripheral vision he saw the man bend down to pick his gat up out of the mud (oops) before straightening.

Yeong-shin was expecting him to go without a word. He wasn’t expecting him to step back between Yeong-shin’s still spread legs and tilt his face up with a finger under his chin. The prince smiled at him then before kissing him sweetly, one more time. 

Yeong-shin melted into it, leaning after him even as the prince pulled away. One last quick smile and the prince took his leave.

And Yeong-shin? Yeong-shin was done for.

He pushed himself off the wall and found himself an even more isolated corner between two houses.

 _Never kiss your lovers_ , he remembered his Chakho mentor saying, shoving his hand down the front of his pants. _Lest you fall in love with them._

It didn’t take more than a few strokes.

*******

The prince’s guard fished him out of the gutter later that night and half dragged him into the main building.

“Why are you bringing me here?” Yeong-shin half growled, shaking off the man’s tight grip on his shoulder. His bad shoulder at that.

“His Highness wishes to see you,” the guard said flatly.

Yeong-shin snorted, annoyed. “Why didn’t you just say fucking so?”

The guard eyed him mistrustfully. “The prince is embarking on a mission to Mungyeong Saejae this night. He wishes to speak with you before we depart.”

Yeong-shin nodded slowly, frowning.

The guard glared. “Well? Go!”

Yeong-shin huffed at him, turning towards the door before pausing. Was he supposed to…knock? He couldn’t say he’d ever had the opportunity to visit a gentry’s quarters, let alone a royal’s before. What was considered polite?

_Since when did he care about polite?_

_Fuck it._

He slid open the door and slipped inside, making sure to shut it behind him.

The prince turned upon hearing him enter and—

_Oh._

Yeong-shin’s mouth went dry. Black…suited the prince. Black suited him very well.

Remembering himself, he dipped his head in greeting, not quite coming out of it as he fixed his eyes on the floor.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Yes.” The prince moved to standin front of him. Yeong-shin swallowed thickly. “Did Mu-yeong explain the plan to you?”

“He said you’re going to Mungyeong Saejae.” Yeong-shin paused briefly. “But I must have heard wrong.”

“You heard right.”

Yeong-shin stared at him, dismayed. “There are hundreds if not thousands of monsters between here and there.”

The prince nodded. “That’s true.”

“And even if we manage to make it to the city, we will be greeted by _five armies_.”

“Oh, I hope so.”

Yeong-shin couldn’t believe his ears, something like panic welling in his chest. “Your Highness, you can’t go there!”

“And why not?”

Yeong-shin trembled. “Because you will die!”

“As I will if I stay here, along with the rest of Joseon,” the prince replied patiently. “You are a veteran, yes?”

Yeong-shin eyed him warily. “…Yes.”

“Then you can tell me if my reasoning is solid or not.” He cracked a wry smile and went on. “The army’s numbers are still low due to the recent war. I know for a fact there are 5,000 soldiers stationed in Hanyang at any given time. Given that and the siege, the number in Mungyeong Saejae is unlikely to be more than a few hundred. We will go over the wall near a remote, mountainous outpost. It’s unlikely to be manned given the current circumstances.”

Yeong-shin shrugged. Probably true.

“It will be the middle of the night and there will be few of us. We will sneak through a camp full of tired, overworked soldiers and to the citadel, where I will kill Cho Hak-ju, take command of the five armies, and end this insanity once and for all.” He raised an eyebrow. “Sound good?”

Yeong-shin nodded shakily. The prince, seemingly pleased, turned to the door.

_He’s going without you._

_He could die out there. Joseon’s only hope could die._

_You might never see him again._

“Allow me to come with you!” Yeong-shin blurted out before he knew he had even opened his mouth.

The prince looked at him over his shoulder. “I was assuming you would.”

Yeong-shin let out a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding.

_Get a grip._

The prince turned back to the door, a hand reached out to open it, but he stopped as though conflicted. Yeong-shin watched as slowly he turned to face him again.

“I heard it said once,” the prince murmured, eyes fixed somewhere in the middle of Yeong-shin’s chest. “That it is good luck to kiss someone before embarking on a mission. Is that true?”

Yeong-shin stared at him, something like confusion, disbelief, and affection mixing potently in his chest. “…Who’s to say, really.”

The prince’s gaze lifted to meet Yeong-shin’s own as he stepped forward to stand directly in front of him. “Well…it can’t hurt, right?”

And he paused, seemingly unsure of himself, before he cupped Yeong-shin’s cheek in his hand and pressed their lips together.

Yeong-shin drew in a breath as he leaned into it, a warmth unlikely anything he had ever felt before melting the long-standing ice over his heart.

In contrast to the passion and hunger of earlier, this kiss was gentle and soft and the prince broke it after only a moment, looking down at the hunter with uncertainty in his eyes. Yeong-shin could only stare at him, disbelieving.

“You don’t hate me…” he whispered, barely aware he had spoken out loud.

“No,” the prince replied, brow furrowing slightly. “Why would I?”

And Yeong-shin didn’t — _couldn’t_ — understand it. He could only lean up and kiss the prince.

He never wanted to kiss anybody else again in his life.

******

 _You’re compromising yourself_ , his mind whispered as he walked through the tunnel in a group of about ten men, their muddy footsteps echoing off the stone walls.

_You can’t protect yourself —let alone anyone else— if you’re compromised._

Lord Ahn took the man in white down from where he hung at the gate. Cradling the man to his chest like a son, the Lord laid him to rest on a straw mat, uncaring of the mud soaking through his robes as he bowed in gratitude.

_Have you learned nothing after all these years?_

“Extinguish your torches,” the prince’s guard said.

They did so, blackness swallowing them up like a cold, dark sea.

And then they ran.

*******

The prince’s plan worked.

Until it didn’t.

Things went well for them.

Until they didn’t.

They made it to the wall without incident, which was the first pleasant surprise. Then they made it _over_ the wall without indecent, not a guard in sight.

They blew through the camp, Yeong-shin ripping the throats of three guards out without a second thought, his earlier weakness carefully locked away.

They were going to make it, so it seemed.

 _Something’s not right,_ Yeong-shin thought as he opened the second tent in a row, preparing himself for a fight only to find nothing and no one.

_This was too easy._

“Something’s off sir,” he told Lord Ahn when the man and two others appeared from behind a cluster of tents. “They have very few men. Too few. We should proceed with caution.”

He watched as a look of horror passed over the Lord’s face right before he took off running. Yeong-shin followed right on his tail.

And, Yeong-shin was a commoner. He knew that. As such, he was in no place to speak ill of the prince. Normally, he did not care for such arbitrary rules, but so far the prince had proved himself worthy of respect and Yeong-shin would give that respect to him.

That said, _that blasted fucking fool_ walked into the citadel _alone_.

Yeong-shin and Lord Ahn arrived at the steps to find the rest of the men enveloped in a bloody fight with citadel guards. Both were quickly swallowed up in the violence, though Yeong-shin managed to catch one last glimpse of the prince entering the building…

Right before the door was shut behind him. By….

Yeong-shin’s blood turned to ice.

 _Cho Hak-ju_.

They were surrounded by guards before they even knew it had happened.

It was a trap.

*******

There were too many of them to have any hope of victory, but that didn’t stop Yeong-shin from trying to take at least a few of them down with him. The others didn’t fight it as the guards tied them up, but Yeong-shin did. He twisted and kicked, bit and thrashed, and managed to break a few bones and bloody a few noses in the process.

All it got him was hog-tied so tightly his shoulders screamed with every breath and a rope around his neck holding him upright, half-choking him.

He focused on taking slow, if not deep, breaths to keep himself from panicking at the restriction around his throat. It was very hard to do so with all the noise coming from the citadel.

They were held outside the gate, down the steps so they couldn’t see what was going on. But they could hear it. Oh, they could hear it.

Yelling, a lot of yelling. The sound of a monster snarling far away. Loud crashes, bangs, more yelling…

Then gunshots. One, then many.

Yeong-shin shook.

The silence came after that. A terrible, unending silence that Yeong-shin’s ears strained to break, to pick up something, _anything_ , that might give some clue as to what had just happened. But nothing.

Until someone screamed “ _The King! Not the King!_ ”

Yeong-shin couldn’t stop his panic then. The King? Was the King _here_? Or did they mean the prince? If what he had overheard was true and the King really had been turned into a monster and was dead, then they must mean the prince and _the prince could not be dead, no—_

When they finally dragged him out, bound like a common criminal, he was worse than dead.

The man the guards dumped in front of Yeong-shin was not the same man who had walked into the citadel. All of the light was gone from the prince’s eyes as he stared uncomprehendingly at the ground, trembling like a man half frozen.

He was muttering something. Yeong-shin had to strain his ears to hear it. “I killed…I killed…they…I…killed…”

They dragged someone else out then, only this person was dead. Yeong-shin could tell that before they even let him go.

Lord Ahn, as it happened. With more than ten bullet wounds in his back.

_The volley of gunfire._

They dumped his body down the stairs as if he were a penniless beggar and not the Lord of Sangju, not a man of honor.

What could Yeong-shin have expected from a man like Cho Hak-ju, who came out next.

The _real_ monster stood there, blatantly fake tears shining in his cold eyes as he held aloft a bundle wrapped in red silk. A head-shaped bundle.

“ _The King is dead!_ ” Lord Cho cried, and suddenly the prince’s mumblings made sense.

The prince didn’t appear to be aware of anything that had just happened. He continued to stare into middle distance, murmuring, “I killed…I killed… _they killed me_ …I…”

Yeong-shin could have cried at the agony in the prince’s unfocused, shattered gaze, but now was not the time for that. A man could be driven mad by grief this strong, Yeong-shin knew that well enough, and that would not happen to the prince, not on his watch.

Yeong-shin knew better than most what it felt like to be worse off than dead.

“Your Highness,” he whispered, trying to catch the man’s eye where he was knelt off to the side of him. When he got no response, he said a little louder. “Your Highness!”

The prince remained unaware he had spoken, whispering brokenly to himself. A few more times, Yeong-shin tried with increasing desperation to get his attention as Lord Cho finished his little charade. He had to hurry, they were going to lock them up, separate them…

It occurred to Yeong-shin then that he could not remember the prince’s name and he was struck by the absurdity of it. He had taken the prince’s virginity, been his first kiss, had fought for him, protected him...Yeong-shin never paid much attention to the royals and no one around them had any reason to call the prince by his given name. Still, he _must have_ heard it _somewhere_ —

Then, all of a sudden, he remembered.

“Chang!” he hissed as several guards walked towards them.

The prince’s head jerked up at the sound of his name and _finally_ his eyes focused on Yeong-shin’s face.

Someone fussed to the side of him, how _dare_ he call the prince by his name, but Yeong-shin paid them no mind.

“Chang, look at me,” he said as calmly as he could manage, eyes never leaving the prince’s face, who stared at the hunter like he was his only lifeline. He probably was. “It’s gonna be okay, you hear me?”

And he hated those words, many times had he heard them. From one of the six soldiers holding him down after they told him everyone he ever knew was dead. His Chakho mentor, finding him bloody and shattered after his assault. Seo-bi, patching up his shoulder while he sat there, staring vacantly ahead as he pondered the miserable turns of his life.

He hated those words, because _nothing_ about those times was going to be okay and certainly nothing was now. Still, against all odds, they had provided some small sense of comfort, of hope.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he said again, holding the prince’s gaze as long as he could until they dragged him away.

*******

Yeong-shin never once moved from his position by the cell door. He stood, watching, waiting for _any_ opportunity…

“Opportunity for what?” one of the other men asked cautiously. One of the men leaving a family behind. Someone with something to lose. Yeong-shin couldn’t relate.

“I’ll know it when I see it,” the hunter replied cooly, gaze not straying from where we watched through the bars.

If there was one thing he was good at, it was waiting.

As the night bled into morning, the other men began to talk.

“There was no way they didn’t know we were coming,” one man half hissed. “We were set up. Someone told them!”

 _No shit_ , thought Yeong-shin darkly. Military men didn’t normally spend their nights in full battle armor skulking around the sides of buildings now did they?

“That must mean…” the man continued tearfully. “That one of use is a spy!”

_No. Shit._

“We shouldn’t be talking about this right now,” Yeong-shin growled over his shoulder. They had been caught, so it wasn’t like it mattered anymore.

“What does that mean?!” the man who had previously spoken snapped, suspicion plain in his voice.

_What, you think I’m the fucking traitor now? By all the ancestors…_

“I’m not going to die in this prison!” Yeong-shin snarled in return, letting the fury he had locked away for years prime his nerves and seal his focus. “No, my purpose won’t be complete until I avenge my family.”

_Until I avenge my sister._

_Until I avenge my country._

And to do that…

He turned to the men. “Lord Ahn’s death will not go unpunished. Will you help me?”

The man’s previously frightened face steeled. “I swear I will do everything in my power to make them pay!” he said with conviction. “But…is there any way for us to do that?”

“Our lives are already forfeit,” Yeong-shin replied simply. No other way to put it, really. “Might as well take Cho Hak-ju down with us.” And though he knew no one was there to listen, he glanced down the row of cells one last time before he said it. “Just before we leave for Hanyang…that is our only opportunity.”

The men nodded and watched as Yeong-shin pulled a small blade from his sleeve (no one ever checked the sleeves).

They cut themselves free and shifted to sit in ways so that any passing guards would be unable to see the cut ropes and their free arms.

Now all they had to do was wait.

Yeong-shin kept his position by the door, rope clenched tightly in his hands behind his back, he had plans for it. Given the chance he would strange Cho Hak-ju slowly. An agonizing way to die and exactly what he deserved.

He doubted he would have the time to do it, but he could fantasize about it.

Despite his impending demise, his thoughts didn’t stay dark for long.

Oddly enough, they drifted to the couple who had lived across the path from him. An older couple, two of the colony’s few elders. They had been together forever, others in the village said, since they were children. They did everything together. When the husband had become infected with leprosy, the wife had come with him to the colony, refusing to part ways. Eventually she had contracted the illness as well (now they would even die together).

They loved each other.

Yeong-shin had always wanted to love someone like that.

On its own, his mind conjured up other images.

The prince’s voice, strong and sure. His ideas, how he put the people before himself every time without fail. How he took the right path instead of the easy path. His hands on Yeong-shin’s face, wiping away his tears. His lips, searing against Yeong-shin’s own. His smile in the dark, the soft kiss he had given Yeong-shin before they left on this godforsaken mission...

For luck, he’d said.

_He had always wanted to love someone they way that couple had loved each other. He didn’t want to die without knowing what it felt like to be in love._

He thought again of the prince’s face. Beautiful, that’s what he was. The most beautiful thing Yeong-shin had ever seen…

It was stupid. It was foolish. It only ever had a hope of bringing him more pain and suffering, but...

But he would be dead in a few hours anyway, so what did it matter?

His breath caught in his throat as he allowed his eyes to drift shut for the briefest of moments. There, in a Mungyeong Saejae prison cell, he let himself fall in love with the Crown Prince of Joseon.

And it was a _wonderful_ feeling.

The warmth that had been brewing in his chest since the prince gave the people his own food to eat while he went hungry himself spread through Yeong-shin’s entire being, fully reviving his cold, dead heart until it felt like it hadn’t since before he left Sumang.

His lips curled in the briefest of smiles, feeling almost giddy.

One last time, he pictured the prince’s face, smiling softly down at him.

“I love you,” he breathed, so quietly no one else in the cell heard him say it, because he had always wanted to say the words.

_I will avenge you. I will avenge all of us._

_I promise._

Opening his eyes, Yeong-shin returned to his watch.

*******

“On your feet!” the guards shouted, footsteps echoing faintly off the walls as they made their way towards the cell.

Yeong-shin’s mouth twitched as he cracked his neck.

_Inhale._

_Exhale._

_Unlock the door and…_

_Begin_.

They were Lord Ahn’s best men for a reason. The guards never stood a chance.

Two men busted out after stunning one guard while Yeong-shin dragged the other into the cell. Finishing off the one quickly enough, they left to deal with the rest. Yeong-shin stayed behind to deal with this one.

He absolutely had the knowledge and the skill to snap the man’s neck, even in full armor. That would have been the smarter, timesaving choice. But Yeong-shin strangled him instead.

_Because these were Lord Cho’s men. Because the fury he had kept locked up for years had finally boiled over. Because anyone who served Lord Cho deserved to suffer._

_Because he fucking could._

By the time he made it outside, the other guards had already been taken care of. He locked eyes with one of the men, who promptly tossed him a rifle.

 _Perfect_.

Up and over the wall they went. Camp wasn’t far at all.

It would never cease to amaze Yeong-shin what a handful of men with a couple sticks and nothing left to lose could accomplish.

They blasted their way through the camp in record time. Listening to the steady pounding of his heart in his chest, Yeong-shin kept his eyes on the roof ahead of them.

_High ground, he needed high ground—_

There.

The wagon.

That’ll do.

“Cover me!” he shouted and the other men fell in around him as he leapt into the wagon’s bed. From there, everything slowed down.

The same steps he’d repeated a thousand times. Gunpowder. Bullet. Pack it down. Cock it.

And there he was. Cho Hak-ju himself. Dressed in white amongst a sea of others in maroon. Not a thing in his path.

Yeong-shin had never had a clearer shot.

_Inhale._

_Exhale._

Aim. Fire.

The gunshot echoed off the mountains around him, a sense of finality in its reverberations. No matter the result, he would die for it. His whole life had come down to this, waiting for the smoke to clear.

When it finally did, his heart pitched to the pit of his stomach.

Lord Cho stood there still, utterly stunned and _covered_ in blood, but it wasn’t him who fell, no, but rather the guard who had jumped in front of him. The guard fell, choking to death on his own blood, and Cho Hak-ju remained standing. Very much alive and _murderous_.

Yeong-shin’s nerves of steel deserted him then and his whole body quaked as he scrambled to think of what to do. The next thing he knew he was hitting the ground hard, tackled from the cart. The jolt sprung him back into action. He knocked the man who had tackled him out cold with one hit before leaping for his rifle. Another shot, _he could make another shot—_

There were five blades at his throat before he could even pick it up off the ground.

He knelt there, chest heaving as he found himself suddenly drenched in a cold sweat.

 _I failed_ , he thought, shoulders slumping in defeat. _I. Failed…._

_I’m so sorry. My dear sister I’m so sorry…_

That’s when everything took quite the turn.

Screaming to his left, and an inhuman roar. Everyone watched uncomprehendingly as a torn flag rose up above the tents, and began to move. The could only guess what it was. Soon enough, it was obvious.

Lord Ahn, turned into a monster.

_Seo-bi_

From there, he had the pleasure (and utter disbelief) of watching Lord Ahn tear Lord Cho’s face off. It would have been hilarious if the prince hadn’t had to be the one to cut off Lord Ahn’s head and end it.

Why he hadn’t let Lord Ahn rip Lord Cho to shreds, Yeong-shin would never know. Why he had chosen to spare that monster’s life, Yeong-shin would never understand.

The prince stumbled every so slightly after he did it. Yeong-shin couldn’t see his face, but he could see the way the hand that held the sword shook.

But only for a moment.

“If you want to kill these undead monsters, focus your attacks on the head!” His strong voice was easily heard all of the silent camp.

The prince was vindicated. His accusations against the Cho clan proven for all to see.

_And you almost ruined it._

If he had made that shot, if that dastardly guard hadn’t saved Lord Cho’s life, there would have been no example to be made. And no hope.

It was then and there that Yeong-shin vowed to follow a different path, one different from those shown to him by the army and the Chakho: charging forward or waiting patiently, the end goal always being the annihilation of the enemy and survival by any means necessary.

Where had it gotten him?

If the prince could follow a path such as this, then at the very least Yeong-shin could try.

*******

The first thing the prince (the King now, wasn’t he?) did was devise a plan to get food and medicine to the people suffering in the Sangju citadel. It was a clever plan, Yeong-shin had never heard of cannons being used so ingeniously. It worked too, which was even better.

That morning and early afternoon were victories to be savored. As it turned out, they would be the last for a good long while. Everything went to shit remarkably quickly after that.

The second, _the second_ , the prince got off his horse upon their return, he was met by jittering guards.

“Your Highness,” one said, sounding a bit out of breath. “We have a problem.”

 _Problem_ was putting it lightly, now wasn’t it?

The men guarding Lord Cho had been found slaughtered like dogs, and the monster himself had disappeared. Yeong-shin could only watch, dumbfounded, as the prince quaked, staring at the empty room.

“Who did this?” he asked in a whisper before roaring, “Tell me right now!”

It would have been better, perhaps, if the disgraced Lord really had just disappeared into thin air rather than be taken by the prince’s beloved guard, Mu-yeong.

Of course the prince wanted to chase him down.

“If Cho Hak-ju reaches Hanyang, he will return with the might of the Five Armies. We cannot allow our country to implode again, the people cannot take another war so soon.”

The commander, one Lee Gang-yun, struggled to keep up with him. “But how will you catch him? There are a hundred roads he could have taken to Hanyang!”

Yeong-shin, who had been following a few paces behind them, spoke up. “I’m a tiger hunter,” he said, looking up at the prince on his horse. “There’s no one better at chasing targets. Allow me to join you.”

The prince met his eyes. His gaze was unsteady, his nod no more than a quick jerk of his head.

_His killed both his blood father and the man who functioned as his father with his own two hands in the span of a day, only to turn around and be betrayed by his best friend. All that on top of everything else. Of course he’s rattled._

_Watch out for him._

Of course he would.

A guard held out reins and Yeong-shin was on the horse’s back and flying through the camp after the prince. Three guards followed close behind them.

*******

It was a long, hard ride and they rode late into the night, continuing to move forward, walking their exhausted horses even after the sun had set and resting only long enough to refresh the animals to ride another day.

Yeong-shin made them a quick fire on top of some hill (for easier patrolling) as the chill settled around them and snow fell from the sky. He offered to take first watch to let the others sleep, which the guards readily accepted, passing out almost before they had laid down completely. The prince on the other hand remained seated, staring into the flames like a stone statue.

Yeong-shin thought to say something, but could think of nothing worth saying. What was there even?

_I’m so sorry everyone you’ve ever loved is dead? I’m so sorry you had to be the one to kill them? It really sucks that the only person you had left turned around and betrayed you for the man who caused all of this to happen?_

Yeong-shin shivered as his mind unhelpfully reminded him that, technically, all of this was _his_ fault. But it wouldn’t do to dwell on that. It would only serve to distract him and distraction would see him lose the trail and get the prince killed.

_You’re the one protecting him now._

Yeong-shin glanced over at the man and frowned at what he saw. The prince remained where he had been all night, staring into the flames with unseeing eyes. Only now he was unconsciously scratching at the inside of his wrist.

 _Well and truly shell-shocked_ , Yeong-shin thought, partly lamenting the name that no longer fit the cause.

Aside from that occasional tick, he hid it well, better than most veterans or Chakho even. That wasn’t a good thing.

_It’ll burn you to ash from the inside out._

Yeong-shin would know.

The hunter glanced at the others. All appeared to still be fast asleep around the fire. He looked back over at the prince, regarding him before reaching over and gently closing his fingers over the prince’s wrist.

He jumped at the hunter’s touch, head jerking up to see who had dared lay a hand on him. Yeong-shin didn’t move as he held the prince’s half-panicked gaze, thumb stroking back and forth over the back of the prince’s hand.

Trying to be comforting, or at least reassuring.

The prince pulled away from him after a moment, turning back to the fire and tugging his sleeve over the sluggishly bleeding marks, hands folded in front of him.

Yeong-shin stayed where he was a moment longer before standing to rouse another guard.

*******

Lord Cho must have been in pretty bad shape, seeing as they’d taken him in a cart rather than on a horse. At least three people had been involved: Seo-bi (who was also missing), Mu-yeong of course, and Cho Beom-pal, who was seen riding out with them. Possibly a fourth, another hidden in the wagon, but no more he wagered based on the estimated size of the cart.

“I’m certain they went this way,” Yeong-shin reported, standing as he heard someone approach him. The prince, undoubtedly. “It’s the only route to Hanyang from this area. They’ve taken a cart, and will be moving slower than they would on horseback. We’ll definitely be able to catch them.”

The prince didn’t respond as he looked out over the horizon, an uncharacteristic slump in his shoulders. Yeong-shin stared at his back, debating.

“Why did you do nothing?” he finally asked.

_Did you know?_

The prince’s lack of reply said that he had.

Such a swell of protectiveness and fury at the betrayal boiled up in Yeong-shin’s chest that he spat out, “Your Highness, he betrayed you! And you knew it!”

The prince seemed to consider his words, shoulders slumping even further. “I wasn’t ready to lose anyone else,” he sighed, bone-deep exhaustion evident in his voice. “That’s why.”

 _You’ll never lose me,_ Yeong-shin thought, eyes fixed on the prince’s back as he cursed that guard’s very name. _I’ll never leave you._

“I wanted to trust him…” The prince’s voice cracked on the last word and he turned and fled the moment of vulnerability before Yeong-shin could react to it.

The hunter stayed where he was a breath longer, heart aching, before rejoining the others.

*******

Yeong-shin had been right. It wasn’t long before they caught up to Mu-yeong. It’s just that when they did…

The inside of the hut was littered with the bodies of palace guards and every surface was splattered with blood. Seo-bi and Lord Cho were noticeably absent while the cart Yeong-shin had suspected they used remained outside.

It stank of yet another betrayal.

The prince was apparently of the same mind as he looked around for something with steadily increasing panic. Or more likely someone.

Few men had the skill to kill six men in this manner in such an enclosed space...

Arrows had been shot through the shabby wooden wall, yet Yeong-shin could find no evidence that any had struck the ground inside. Meaning they had struck that someone or something instead. He followed a blood trail out the door with the prince hot on his heels.

The prince saw him before Yeong-shin did.

“MU-YEONG!” the prince cried, scrambling towards his friend so quickly he fell several times, all the while screaming the guard’s name.

Yeong-shin watched from a respectful distance as the prince pulled the guard into his arms, howling for help, voice so full of anguish and despair that Yeong-shin nearly teared up himself.

The man had five arrows in his back. He was beyond help.

From where he stood, Yeong-shin could hear the prince sobbing, telling the guard he forgave him for everything, begging him not to go, not to die…

_The three people he cared about most, all dead in a matter of days. Right in front of him._

What could they do but stand there and bear witness to the prince’s mountainous grief?

Eventually, the prince’s cries fell silent and Yeong-shin and another guard carefully approached him where he was slumped on the forest floor, clutching Mu-yeong’s body to his chest.

“Your Highness…” the other guard said quietly. The prince didn’t act as if he’d heard him. “We have to keep moving. Your Highness told us that Cho Hak-ju must be destroyed and we still believe in that cause—”

“I don’t care.”

Both the guard and Yeong-shin looked at each other, unsure if they’d heard right.

“Your Highness?”

“I don’t…care,” the prince whispered again, grief weighing down his voice as he stared ahead, eyes unseeing. “They want it all so badly, they can _fucking_ take it!” He swallowed thickly, hugging Mu-yeong’s body tighter and shaking his head. “The throne, Hanyang, Joseon, just take it, I can’t…I don’t care anymore…”

The guard stared at the prince, dumbfounded. “Your Highness—“ he started to say before Yeong-shin laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Let me talk to him.”

Highly irregular, perhaps, but without any other ideas, the guard nodded shakily before making his way back to the horses.

Yeong-shin crouched down in front of the prince. “Your Highness—“

“They’ve taken… _everything_ from me…” he whispered, voice thick with tears as a fresh wave of them began to spill down his cheeks.

“I know,” Yeong-shin murmured. “But you can’t give up now.”

The prince’s eyes focused on him, expression cold and lifeless as he hissed, “What, now that you’ve fucked me, you think you can tell me what I can and cannot do?”

Yeong-shin sighed heavily, looking down at the ground.

_Damn it, don’t scratch at me, I’m trying to help you._

“No of course not,” he said, absorbing the well placed hit.

The prince looked away from him. “Besides…there’s nothing left to give up.”

“There’s everything to give up,” Yeong-shin refuted, a stern edge to his voice. “Besides,” he went on, echoing the prince’s speech. “I can’t speak for the King or Mu-yeong, but Lord Ahn at the very least believed in your mission. _We all_ still believe in your mission. You can’t give up now because if you do, a lot of people will have died for nothing. _Lord Ahn_ will have died for nothing.”

“Exactly,” the prince whispered, shivering. “They _died._ All of them. _So many people_ have died for me…” He broke off briefly as his voice cracked. “And now there’s no one left…”

“I’m still here,” Yeong-shin answered firmly, trying to get the prince to look at him again. “I won’t ever leave you or betray you—”

The prince snorted, lips curling into a humorless smile. “Don’t say that. You know he promised me that too?” _Mu-yeong_ , Yeong-shin assumed. “He promised me that too, and here we are.” The prince’s anguished expression grew bitter. “What would you have me do? Wait until someone buys you off for the right price like they did him? Just to have us end up here all over again?”

“No, we won’t. Because the difference between me and him is that I have nothing left to lose…except you,” he finished. Perhaps it was a foolish thing to say, but it was the truth in any case.

Since the day his sister died, he’d had no purpose other than surviving to see another day, and no one to care about. But he did now, didn’t he?

The prince finally looked back at him, confusion clear on his pale face.

Yeong-shin held his gaze. “You need to stand up now,” he said firmly. “You have to stand up, and we have to go to Hanyang and take the throne back from the Cho clan because if you don’t, no one else will.”

The prince looked away again, focusing instead on the body of his friend still held in his arms.

Yeong-shin shook his head and continued, this time more harshly. “What has happened to you,” he hissed. “What has been taken from you, none of that shit is fair. It fucking _sucks_ , all of it. I know because I have sat here in your shoes before when the army used my entire village as bait for the Japanese and everyone I ever knew was slaughtered like cattle!”

The prince flinched, just a little.

Yeong-shin took a breath and went on a bit more compassionately (he wasn’t fucking good at this, alright? His skillset lay more in ‘here, let me kill the people who killed your family’ rather than ‘here let me comfort you’).

For the prince though, he would try.

“I _know_ how hard this is. But you have to stand up and go on because you have an entire nation of people depending on you to keep them safe from the Haewon Cho clan. If you don’t care, _no one else will._ ”

The prince didn’t immediately reply, his hand gently carding through the dead man’s hair. Finally, though, he nodded.

Something like hope surged through Yeong-shin’s chest as he watched the prince gently lower his friend to the ground.

“I’ll come back for you,” he said softly before he stood, the set of his shoulders strong.

Riding hard in the falling twilight, Yeong-shin couldn’t suppress a small smile.

*******

Over the time it took them to get to Hanyang for wherever the hell they had been, the prince relayed to them what Mu-yeong had told him before he died.

That the Queen was keeping dozens of pregnant women in her private residence, Mu-yeong’s wife among them (he’d been extorted in the worst possible way. Given those circumstances, traitor or no, he was hard to hate. Still, Yeong-shin managed it).

That, combined with the fact the Queen was apparently taking a drug extremely dangerous for pregnant women, drew a lot of things into question, namely the soon-to-be existence of another prince.

It was all to easy to break into Naeseonjae. When they did, they caught them red handed.

Literally.

Attendants were right in the middle of burying several dead women, abdomens still swollen, under rose bushes, their dead newborns tossed in beside them like scraps.

It took every ounce of Yeong-shin’s considerable self-control to refrain from carving them up like livestock then and there.

“It seems your Highness’s guard was right,” he said, blade held at one attendant’s throat while their guards pinned down others. “Look at them. They were definitely pregnant.”

The prince stared, horrified as any other them at the discovery, before a woman’s shriek spurred them to action.

In one of the rooms, they found a young woman about to be murdered by an attendant. Mu-yeong’s wife, as it turned out.

The prince killed the attendant the second his best friend’s wife identified herself. 

The woman was terribly sick with a malady the likes of which Yeong-shin had never seen before. Then again, he had never had opportunity to spend much time around women.

Attendant successfully dispatched, the prince scooped her up into his arms and made his way quickly back to the horses.

“She needs medical attention. We have to find Seo-bi.”

Yeong-shin followed on his heel. “You know what ails her?”

“A sickness that sometimes befalls women after they give birth,” he said, boosting the woman up onto the horse’s neck before mounting the horse himself.

Yeong-shin quickly followed suit. “How do you know this?” he asked, genuinely perplexed.

“I used to have a lot of time to read,” the prince said over his shoulder as his urged his horse into a trot. “Follow me, it’s not safe here. I know a place we can go.”

*******

From what the prince said, the Scholarly Institute of Hanyang had not been empty for very long. Already though, it was an overgrown ghost town, but it was doubtful anyone would find them there.

Yeong-shin spent the majority of the next day in disguise (not much of a disguise, really, he was in fact quite poor) searching the streets of Hanyang for their resident physician. She was easy enough to find with the bumbling former magistrate practically glued to her side. He brought her back to the Institute and she worked on the guards wife late into the night.

When she finally emerged, she bore troubling news. While the woman would survive her illness, it was as they had feared. Her baby, a son, had been stolen from her.

While that was enough to strike doubt into their hearts, they needed more proof than that to discredit the Queen or even be certain themselves.

“How easily would you be able to tell if a woman had recently given birth?” the prince asked

“Quite easily, your Highness,” Seo-bi replied.

“Good. Now, I hear you have become quite close with the former magistrate of Dongnae, is that true?”

Seo-bi fidgeted a bit before nodding. “Somewhat, sir.”

_“You said she was with the Cho magistrate?” the prince had asked him after he brought the physician back to the Institute._

_“Yes, that’s correct.”_

_“Do you think he’ll be any trouble?”_

_Yeong-shin shrugged. “Honestly….he seems harmless. He might be a Cho, but there doesn’t seem to be a whole lot going on upstairs…and whatever thoughts he does manage to have appear to be entirely devoted to Seo-bi, so as long as she is on our side I would reckon so is he.”_

_The prince huffed a quiet laugh. It was a lovely sound._

“In that case,” the prince said. “I think it is time you asked your magistrate for a small favor.”

*******

They devised a plan for Seo-bi to request a job as a court physician to gain Seo-bi the opportunity to discover if the Queen really had just given birth to a son and go from there with building a case to discredit her and expose the treason of the Cho clan.

(Privately, Yeong-shin wondered if the word of a peasant physician —a woman at that— a guard’s wife, a Crown Prince labeled a traitor, and circumstantial medical evidence would be enough to discredit the Queen of Joseon. But what did Yeong-shin know of court life. It wasn’t his job to come up with problems. It was his job to keep the prince safe.)

The prince, as it happened, had already thought of that. And had come up with a solution in the form of his banished uncle.

While Seo-bi worked her magic in Hanyang, Yeong-shin and the prince were going on a little trip to Gangwha Island.

*******

The prince’s uncle was remarkably easy to find, which Yeong-shin found rather odd. He would have thought a banished royal would want to hide from those who had banished him. But, the prince pointed out, if the Haewon Cho clan had wanted him dead, they would have just killed him. He had nothing to gain from hiding.

Fair enough.

Yeong-shin settled himself up on the ridge across from where the man was fishing (the dethroned King of Joseon _fishing_ dressed in _rags,_ the Cho clan didn’t fuck around _…_ ), hiding himself in a bit of underbrush, rifle ready to fire and positioned in his hands.

The prince scoffed at him. “I will not be in danger from an old man such as him. My relative, no less.”

It was not Yeong-shin’s place to comment on the prince’s other relatives.

“All the same, your Highness, I’d rather be prepared.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the prince smile, just a little. “Could you even make a shot like that?”

“Yes, your Highness.”

“Really? When you missed the shot you took at Cho Hak-ju two hundred feet in front of you?”

Yeong-shin recognized the hint of humor in the prince’s voice and worked hard to suppress a smile. “I didn’t miss, your Highness. Someone stepped in front of my shot.”

“Ah, I see.”

But the moment of good humor couldn’t last long and soon the prince was off to meet his uncle, but the affection in Yeong-shin’s chest continued to warm him against the cold winter wind on the cliffside.

Watching the prince attempt to fish was one of the most entertaining experiences of Yeong-shin’s life.

_Not saying much, considering you think watching him stand and read is entertaining anymore._

_Shut up, they weren’t there to discuss how ill-advised Yeong-shin’s adventures in falling in love had been._

Nevertheless, Yeong-shin allowed himself the briefest of moments to imagine teaching the prince how to fish.

_To fish, cook, hunt, shoot a gun, build a home..to kiss, to fuck, to swear (though he was already pretty good at that)—_

_Enough._ Yeong-shin refocused himself. _Distraction will get him killed, you goddamned fool._

In the end, the old man agreed to help them, lend them what little support and influence he had left to give. But he brought with him ill news.

What other kind of news was there these days?

Yeong-shin met the prince down by the water’s edge, the sound of the waves a balm on the hunter’s ears. On the prince’s too, he gathered, given the slightly more relaxed line of his shoulders. Yeong-shin hated to be the one to deliver the news.

“Our soldier’s families have been rounded up,” he said from where he walked a few paces behind the prince. “They will be killed tomorrow.”

The prince sighed heavily. What else was there to say, really? Add them to the long list of people they had to save from the Haewon Cho’s.

He stopped a few paces from where the waves crashed over the stony beach, watching them for a long time.

Yeong-shin took the opportunity to truly admire their surroundings. He had been out to islands a few times during his stint with the Chakho to do smuggling or other poaching work. He had always enjoyed coming to them. The were dirt poor, but they were pretty, peaceful, remote…

“Tell me,” the prince finally said without looking away from the waves. “Why are you so loyal?”

Yeong-shin was genuinely surprised by his question. “Your Highness?”

“You mentioned what had happened to your family before. I know that’s why you helped me. So that you could avenge them.”

Yeong-shin stared at his back, an unknown clump of emotions clogging up his throat. Did he really think that was all?

“You’ve done that,” the prince went on. “So why are you still here?”

He turned to face Yeong-shin and that clump of emotions forced the hunter’s eyes down as he considered his words very carefully.

“Since the deaths of the men responsible for all this suffering…” Yeong-shin started slowly. “Have the people gotten meat or rice? Everything is still the same. The people are still starving and everything is a _mess_. There is so much still that needs to change...” He trailed off for a moment. “But…I believe in you. I believe you can bring about the changes we need.”

He could feel the prince’s gaze on him. He raised his eyes to meet it.

“Am I mistaken?”

The prince stared at him for a long time, opening and closing his mouth several times as if debating what he wanted to say.

“Did you mean what you said?” he finally asked, voice barely audible above the waves. “Back there…”

_Back wherever the hell we were. Back where Mu-yeong died._

_I have nothing to lose except you._

“Yes,” Yeong-shin said without hesitation.

“Why?” Yeong-shin saw the prince’s mouth move more than he heard him say the word.

Why indeed.

_Because you care about what happens to people lower in status than you. Because you’re strong and kind and exactly what this kingdom needs. Because everyone I’ve ever cared about is dead and I had no purpose in my life before I met you. Because you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever set my eyes on. Because I in all my unending foolishness let myself fall in love with the Crown Prince of Joseon…_

He shut his eyes, feeling the warm sun on his cold cheeks. “Once…” he murmured. “An old colleague of mine gave me a piece of advice…” He swallowed hard and continued. “He told me to never to kiss my lovers, lest I…”

He broke off again, every fiber of his being screaming at him to shut up, to bury his weakness deep, never to see the light of day again.

He said it anyway, because it was the truth and after so much deceiving and treachery the prince deserved the truth. He said it and he would deal with the consequences. “Lest I fall in love with them…”

Yeong-shin couldn’t see the prince’s face, eyes shut as they were (he was a brave man in many things, but in this he was a _coward…_ )

But he did hear the prince make something off a choked off noise and before he knew it the prince’s lips were on his and he was being kissed like he’d never been by man nor woman.

The prince’s arms were tight around his neck and Yeong-shin had his wrapped tight around the prince’s waist, clutching at his back and he could die a happy man now, right here in his arms was all he ever wanted—

The prince broke the kiss, but didn’t let him go as he held Yeong-shin’s face between his hands.

“Don’t leave me,” his whispered against the hunter’s lips. “Please don’t leave me. You can’t say something like that to me and then turn around and leave me—“

Yeong-shin pressed his mouth back to the prince’s in the hopes of silencing whatever demons were haunting him then. “Never,” he whispered back. “I’ve already sworn it, I’ll never leave you…”

“Ever?”

The vulnerability in the prince’s quiet voice destroyed him and Yeong-shin had long made up his mind.

“Ever.”

The sigh of relief the prince let out was balm on Yeong-shin’s well worn soul. He kissed the prince again, because he _could…_

_Just a little bit longer._

*******

The newfound lightness Yeong-shin found in his soul did not last nearly as long as he would have liked. The reintroduction of the heaviness started with the realization late that night that there was a good chance the following day would see them all dead. Yeong-shin had never been afraid to die, but now…He looked across the fire to where the prince sat, picking at a small bowl of rice before turning to Seo-bi and asking if she wanted the rest of it.

Now he had something to lose. The prince wasn’t his to keep, but he would be leaving someone behind if he died. Who would protect him if Yeong-shin weren’t there? The hunter himself certainly couldn’t think of anyone he would trust with the prince’s safety other than himself…

And that rattled him.

Much later, when the early hours of the morning saw him sleepless, he rose from his spot amongst his fellow soldiers and went to check on the prince, who was sleeping in a private room down the hall.

For once in his life, Yeong-shin didn’t have any ulterior motives for seeking out a companion this late at night. He just wanted to see him.

Part of his mind gagged. _You’re going soft_ , it hissed. _It’s gonna get you both fucking killed!_

But he was already at the door, which was open, any guards notably absent.

The prince was not asleep. He stood motionless in the middle of the room, still fully dressed, staring blankly down at his hands.

Yeong-shin knocked quietly on the doorframe.

The prince spooked, whipping around to see who had disturbed him. Recognizing Yeong-shin, he relaxed, letting out a quiet breath.

“You startled me.”

“I’m sorry,” Yeong-shin murmured.

“It’s alright.”

Silence fell over the room until Yeong-shin cleared his throat. “I…came to check on you.”

The prince cracked a small smile. “To check on me?”

Yeong-shin nodded, half smiling as well. “Is there something bothering you?”

The prince sighed heavily, looking back down at his hands. “What isn’t there to bother me?” he answered quietly, hands shaking ever so slightly before he clenched them into fists and looked back up at Yeong-shin. “Come in. Shut the door.”

Yeong-shin did so.

He turned back to the prince, room bathed only in the light of the moon. “What happened to your guards?”

“I sent them to get some sleep…” He paused for a moment. “I…every time they moved I would jump, thinking…” He trailed off. “Anyway, I thought I would take my chances without them, seeing as I wasn’t getting any rest with them.“

Yeong-shin hummed in response. “What can I do?” he asked after while.

The prince opened and closed his mouth a few times before turning away from him, running his hands over his face.

Finally, he whispered, “You can make it shut up…”

Yeong-shin frowned. “Your Highness…”

“I don’t care how you do it,” the prince said, staring back down at his shaking hands. “If it’s like…like last time or some other way, it doesn’t matter to me, I just…” His breath stuttered in his throat. “It’s just that every time I close my eyes I keep seeing…” He couldn’t finish that sentence. “And then I open them and all I see is monsters in the shadows and blood on my hands and—“

The next breath the prince took made a terrible rattling sound in his lungs, sharp enough to startle Yeong-shin. The prince quickly took another slower breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Forgive me,” he murmured. “Forget I said anything, I’m…I’m simply tired and need rest…”

Yeong-shin reached out and rested a hand on the prince’s upper arm before he could think about what he was doing.

The prince turned to look at him, a questioning look on his face. Yeong-shin rubbed his thumb back and for the over the torn black fabric.

_Whatever you need._

_I’ll do anything for you._

They regarded each other for a moment longer before the prince leaned in to kiss him and Yeong-shin was floored. He’d kissed the prince a grand total of three times and he was already a master at it, cupping his hand around the hunter’s neck and licking into his mouth almost immediately.

(A part of Yeong-shin clamored to know what else the prince could learn so quickly, but that wasn’t what this was about.)

The prince let Yeong-shin back him up against the nearest wall. His arms were around Yeong-shin’s neck, hands buried in his hair as he worked very hard at shoving his tongue down Yeong-shin’s throat.

_Oof_

Yeong-shin gave as good as he got, running his hands up and down the prince’s lovely chest, over his lightly muscled back and down to massage his ass (the prince made a pleased noise at that) as he returned the kiss just as passionately.

If they only had the time, Yeong-shin would have kissed him like that for hours. But they didn’t have the time.

In any case, the prince soon became impatient and bit at Yeong-shin’s lips, insistently grinding their hips together.

“What are you waiting for?” the prince asked breathlessly when Yeong-shin pulled away to press his mouth to his throat (his skin was so smooth and soft and pale, nothing like Yeong-shin’s own…). “Have me…”

And while those words shot fire straight through Yeong-shin’s core, lighting his blood on fire, that wasn’t what he had planned.

“No,” he whispered against the prince’s skin, pulling at his robes to expose that delectable collarbone he always had his eyes on. “Not tonight.”

The prince made a confused noise, pulling Yeong-shin closer to him. “Then what—“

Yeong-shin silenced him with a quick kiss on the mouth before dropping to his knees.

The prince’s breath caught harshly in his throat as he gaped down at Yeong-shin, leaning heavily against the wall. Yeong-shin steadied him with a hand on his hip, toying with the lacings on his pants.

“Do you know what I’m about to do?” he asked, stroking the prince’s hip.

The prince nodded shakily, eyes wide and chest heaving.

“Do you want it?”

“Yes,” he whispered. “I—“

Whatever he was about to say was cut off by a sharp gasp as Yeong-shin pulled down the the fabric just enough to get his mouth around him. He heard the prince clap one hand over his mouth to stifle his gasps while the other buried itself in Yeong-shin’s hair.

For a while after that, the only audible sounds in the room were the tiny noises escaping the prince’s throat and the wet sounds of Yeong-shin’s mouth around his cock.

Only when the prince’s legs began to shake did Yeong-shin pull off for a moment.

“Sit down before you fall down,” Yeong-shin chastised as the prince whined softly at the loss. He slid down the wall to the floor as requested and Yeong-shin gave him a quick smile, taking the prince’s free hand in his own and putting it back in his hair. “You can pull it if you want,” he murmured, enjoying the prince’s wide eyed, lust filled stare before diving back between his legs.

The prince’s hand now tightly in his hair, yanking most of it from the messy bun he had it in, Yeong-shin had never loved this so much.

Sucking the prince down to his root (and eliciting the prettiest noise from him), Yeong-shin ground the heel of his hand against the bulge between his own legs, moaning softly around the length in his mouth.

The prince tugged weakly at his hair, whimpering softly and Yeong-shin knew it for the warning it was but, drunk on lust himself, _just this once_ he swallowed.

Yeong-shin sat up after and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, panting as he drank in the sight of the prince splayed out against the wall, face slack with bliss. He looked up at Yeong-shin, heat sparking in his eyes as he caught the tiger hunter behind the neck and dragged him forward, presumably to kiss him.

Yeong-shin resisted. “You don’t want to do that after where I’ve just had my mouth,” he drawled cheekily.

The prince made a face and kissed him anyway. Yeong-shin grinned into the kiss as the prince promptly made a displeased noise at what Yeong-shin knew to be a less-than-pleasant taste, but he didn’t pull away, instead dragging the hunter forward to straddle his lap. A burst of heat shot down Yeong-shin’s spine and he groaned.

Oh, no, this wouldn’t take much.

It was his turn to bite his tongue as the prince pressed his mouth to Yeong-shin’s throat and his hand to his cock (it had been _such_ a long time since someone had a hand on him). Head thrown back, Yeong-shin rocked his hips into the prince’s grip, uncaring of the unpracticed movements.

This was easily the best sex of his life.

A few more strokes and the scrape of the prince’s teeth over his jaw was all it took before he was choking out a gasp and coming over the prince’s hand, vision whiting out briefly.

_Oof_

Both of them coming down from their highs, Yeong-shin relaxed in the prince’s lap, kissing him lazily. The prince returned it happily, hands resting on Yeong-shin’s hips.

But they didn’t have all night.

Eventually, Yeong-shin sat back and tore off a stretch of the wrap around his hands, using it to clean them off as best he could. Clothes righted and as clean as they were going to get, Yeong-shin gave the prince one last gentle kiss before sliding off his lap and leaning against the wall next to him, where they sat in amicable silence.

“Thank you,” the prince murmured after a minute, to which Yeong-shin snorted.

“Don’t thank me. I got something out of it, too.”

The prince huffed a laugh. “That’s not what I meant,” he said quietly before shifting to cautiously rest his head on Yeong-shin’s shoulder.

It was then that it occurred to Yeong-shin that, no matter the outcome of tomorrow, he did not get to keep this. Either they would all die or they would win and the prince would be crowned King of Joseon, a man far out of the reach of a peasant outlaw like Yeong-shin.

Either way, Yeong-shin would lose him.

He stayed where he was, carefully holding his relaxed posture until he was sure the prince had fallen asleep, trying not to let the darkness drown him.

*******

The prince’s plan was a solid one. The soldiers had sworn their loyalty to him despite the danger their families were in.

“Can you remain loyal?” the prince had asked them the night before to a resounding chorus of yeses.

“What they have done to our families is only further proof that they must be stopped!” their commander had replied. “To anyone who finds doubt in their hearts, know that if you defect, they will only kill you alongside your families! To stand with the Crown Prince is to save them!”

Not a single man defected that night.

Some faith in his men restored, the plan went as follows: A young gentryman by the name of Min Chi-rok would first deliver proof of the Cho clan’s treachery to sympathetic ministers in court, hopefully gaining their support before approaching the rest of the council under the guise of defection and informing them that the prince’s army was stationed at Yeonggi Academy, a school on the opposite side of the city as the Institute, in order to draw military forces away from Hanyang.

“From there,” the prince said, “We will sneak in as peasants.”

“And you, your Highness?” the commander asked.

“Me too.”

Yeong-shin was actually a little surprised some of the gentrymen in the ranks didn’t faint at the thought.

If they were able to make it into the city without being shot, they would storm the citadel and the prince would fully expose the Cho clan’s treason, thereby securing the five armies and dethroning the Cho’s.

It might just work.

Yeong-shin brought him the peasant robes he had requested later that morning. The prince nodded his thanks, staring at the coarse material with an unreadable expression.

“They’re not so bad,” Yeong-shin murmured, though he knew that wasn’t why the prince was hesitating. He turned to go and leave the prince to his thoughts, but his wrist was caught before he could.

The prince wasn’t looking at him when he spoke. “This could go very well…or it could go very badly today and I just…” He trailed off.

Yeong-shin regarded him carefully. “I understand,” he said finally and the prince’s mouth twitched into a smile.

He let go of the hunter’s wrist and Yeong-shin let him be.

As he walked away, he swore an oath.

_Nothing will happen to you today. Not while I still draw breath._

*******

Everything went well. Better than expected, even.

The Crown Prince had apparently been turned into something of a legend during the months he had been gone, having survived the plague in the south, come to take revenge on the city that had wronged him. That much was obvious given how the guards at the gate _flipped their shit_ and _fled_ upon reading his identity tag.

Securing the city from there was actually pretty simple. No one offered a lick of resistance. They even managed to save all the soldiers’ families thanks to Dongnae’s resident dumbass, leaving Yeong-shin pleasantly surprised and taking a sudden liking to the only decent member of the Cho family. With Cho Beom-pal, they gained the loyalty of the Royal Commandery.

Along with them, it seemed the ministers loyal to the prince had pulled through upon hearing the news of the prince’s return, successfully subduing the remaining military forces in Hanyang.

The prince walked into the palace without a fight.

Yeong-shin had never seen such beautiful buildings. The colors, the architecture…to think people lived here their whole lives…

While others starved and froze in the mud of course. He decided he hated the sight of them, and they weren’t the only disgusting thing Yeong-shin saw that day. Another prime example was the Cho-loyal ministers, begging for their lives on their knees.

 _The Cho clan ordered us to do it, the Queen said to, spare our lives, blah blah_.

Yeong-shin eyed the prince. _Just give me the order and I’ll slaughter them all._

The prince himself paid them and their pitiful cries very little mind, annoyance tightening his shoulders as he surveyed the area. In the end, much to Yeong-shin’s chagrin _,_ he let them go.

Walking towards the throne room, Yeong-shin really wished the prince would follow a more sheltered path rather than walk through the middle of the citadel surrounded by very tall buildings otherwise known as _perfect hiding spots for archers_. Yeong-shin held two of his knives by the blades in preparation to throw them as he watched the rafters, waiting for any sign of movement. None came, much to his surprise.

And that was where everything stopped going well.

The Queen was sat on the throne when they arrived, dressed in full battle armor and holding her stolen child. Of course, she refused to give up either up.

Though Yeong-shin was stationed outside the door and could not hear most of what transpired, he did catch a glimpse of her half-mad smile.

_She’s planning something._

And planning something she was. She had somehow gotten her hands on monsters.

And someone had let them out.

*******

The rest of the day and the night he couldn’t remember in the same way he had trouble remembering every battle he’d ever been in, every tiger he’d ever killed with a knife or his bare hands, the adrenaline in his blood overriding his ability to form memories.

The only thought in his mind was _the prince protect him you have to_ —

What snippets he did recall through the day all centered around that. A stab here. A shot there. Grabbing the prince by the arm and dragging him away from the gate he insisted on protecting as the monsters broke through.

He remembered that the day was long as they worked to secure the gates and that the night was dark.

“What do we do now?” someone asked as the monsters yowled.

Min swallowed hard, lookin over his shoulder at the prince. “We do everything we can to ensure His Highness makes it to safety—“

“And where does that leave you?” the prince immediately snarled. “I won’t let you all die, not for my sake!”

And that was what Yeong-shin loved about him, but Min was right.

“Someone has to survive the night. The people need to know the truth.”

The prince grimaced, like Min’s words caused him physical pain but even he knew Min was right. After all, who would lead the country but the Cho clan if he died? Then all of this would have been for nothing.

“There is a chance we can get your Highness over the roofs and through the back gate in the garden…”

Yeong-shin watched an odd expression dawn across the prince’s face.

“The garden…” he whispered. “Yeong-shin!”

“Your Highness?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the gate in front of him as the wood began to splinter.

“Am I correct in remembering the physician’s observation about these monsters and water?”

And that was how they ended up on the roof.

Disperse the monsters by dripping blood off the roof, giving them time to make a run for the lake in the back garden, crack the ice with a gunshot and pray the weight of the monsters would be enough to shatter the ice and drown them.

He barely felt the sting of the blade on his palm as he cut it.

The next thing he knew he was sprinting through the woods, a few steps behind the prince, the frozen lake stretching out in front of them in the glow of the burning island in the middle. All that was left to do was wait. And pray.

Yeong-shin had never been the praying type but there on the ice, rifle held in his hands as they waited for the biggest fight of their lives, he prayed to whoever would listen.

As the howls of the monsters drew closer and closer and they could feel the ice shaking under their feet, Yeong-shin looked over at the prince. The prince looked to him as well and gave Yeong-shin a small smile, one that actually reached his eyes. Yeong-shin smiled back.

 _Yes,_ he thought as the monsters came into view. _You’re worth fighting for._

_Yes, you’re worth dying for._

The final battle itself was the thing he had the greatest trouble remembering. The adrenaline in his blood had been so high the entire thing sounded like a high pitched scream and all he remembered seeing was blood, blood everywhere.

Even he had never seen so much blood.

Every now and again, in his dreams, he would see himself fighting, but he wasn’t sure if they were real memories because it was always him looking down at the scene. Watching everyone they came there with get torn apart. Watching the prince get bitten (that he always saw from his own point of view).

He could vividly remember the despair he had felt upon seeing that, right before a monster had torn into his own back.

 _We lost_...

The prince had gotten bitten on the shoulder. Yeong-shin knew that. He had seen the scar a thousand times. In his dreams though, the prince almost always got his throat torn out.

Anyway.

After he had been bitten, Min later told him, Yeong-shin had only fought harder. Truly a dead man walking, he had thrown himself into the line of monsters as the prince struggled to break the ice. Shielding him, giving him time to save the people—

He had woken up under water.

He thought he was dead at first because of the silence, the dark, and the cold. He thought he was dead and he was _so tired_ anyway, so why not just close his eyes and rest a while…

That’s when he’d heard his heart beating. A steady thump against his ribs.

_He was alive._

HIs lungs chose that moment to make him aware of how unhappy they were with his life choices, prompting him to scramble towards the surface of the lake. Nothing had ever felt as good as that first breath of air in his lungs.

Then the confusion set in. How were they alive? Where…

_The prince._

Yeong-shin flung his gaze around desperately looking for him where—

There, just a few feet from him, holding on to the ice and gasping for breath. Yeong-shin let out a harsh sigh, relief coursing through him.

_He’s okay, he’s okay…_

_Thank God._

Then came the pain in his soul as he looked down the line. How many had they started fighting with? Only four remained…

Yeong-shin shoved the feeling aside. There would be time to mourn another day. If they didn’t get out of this godforsaken lake soon they would _be_ mourned.

The hunter dragged himself out first before turning to aid Beom-pal, who was scrabbling at the ice, pleading for help. Min dragged himself out, slumping down on the ice as he continued to catch his breath. Yeong-shin thumped on Beom-pal’s back as the man coughed up water, shaking his head, until he realized the prince hadn’t made it up on the ice.

He turned around, looking back to the edge of the water in time to see the prince, still trying to drag himself out and visibly quaking with cold, lose his grip on the edge of the ice and slip back into the water. Yeong-shin went in after him without a second thought.

The shock of the cold water immediately sapped what little energy he had left in his body and he knew he had done a very stupid thing, but he didn’t care as he swam down after the slowly sinking prince. The prince was trying to swim. Weakly, but he was trying, he was reaching for Yeong-shin but he was sinking too fast.

It was _so cold_ , if Yeong-shin didn’t get to him soon they would both be joining the monsters freezing at the bottom.

His lungs screamed for the breath he had neglected to take before diving in. He didn’t have much more in him and neither did the prince, who had ceased his struggles completely. The dark and the cold was starting to close in on him too, but this was _not_ how he was fated to die. He had not come this far to _drown_ , so he _reached_ and barely, just barely, he managed to grasp the prince’s hand.

The other man’s body spasmed as Yeong-shin pulled up to grab him around the chest, kicking them both back to the surface. He wasn’t sure where he found the strength.

They broke the surface to a chorus of shouts from the two men on the ice and Yeong-shin floated on his back as best he could, yelling for Min and Beom-pal to _take him_ , inhaling quite a bit of water as he did. Then he was being dragged onto the ice right as well.

“He’s not breathing!” Beom-pal howled, pawing at the prince as Yeong-shin coughed up the water in his lungs. Finally able to take half a clear breath, he hurled himself towards the others.

“No,” he whispered, still choking on water as he saw the prince’s blue lips and unresponsive face. “No no no!”

 _We survived it, we fucking survived it, you do_ not _get to die of fucking hypothermia and drowning, I won’t let you!_

He heaved the prince on his side and pounded on his back like women from the village had done his sister when she slipped into the river as a young child.

_Come on…come ON!_

A gurgling sound came from the prince’s chest and then he was coughing and vomiting up water on his own, shifting onto his stomach as he desperately gasped for air in between hacks. Yeong-shin sagged in relief.

“We have to get off the ice,” he breathed, feeling how hard he was shivering and seeing the three other men do it as well. “We have to get off the ice…”

Min and Beom-pal scrambled to their feet, Yeong-shin following behind them as he tugged on the prince’s arm.

“Come on…your Highness…” he panted. “We have to…get off the ice…”

The prince nodded shakily, confused and not fully conscious.

“It’s so hot,” the prince rasped where he lay as his body shivered violently. “Why is it so hot?”

Yeong-shin could feel it too, how his skin _burned_ under his clothes.

“It’s not...hot,” he managed, teeth chattering so hard he could barely speak.

 _It’s the reaper come to collect, boy,_ the voice of his mentor whispered in his ear (Yeong-shin even flinched and turned to see if the man was suddenly standing beside him. Not good, not good…) _The god of death expects his due. But what do we say to the god of death?_

“Not...today...”

Slinging one of the prince’s arms over his shoulder, he hoisted the disoriented man to his feet. Arm tight around his waist, he fixed he gaze on the shoreline and started walking.

_It doesn’t matter if you’re cold, it doesn’t matter if you’re tired…_

At some point Min noticed their predicament and raced to help, quickly ducking under the prince’s other arm. Beom-pal raced back too, wrapping an arm around Yeong-shin’s waist to hold _him_ up.

Together, they made their way off the ice.

Another thing Yeong-shin wasn’t sure about was how they made it back to the palace without freezing to death. Between the shock of the night’s events and the hypothermia settling in their bones, none of them thought to try and start a fire out in the woods, though that was probably a good thing seeing as all the wood was damp from snow.

The only thing Yeong-shin remembered from that hike was the prince’s arm over his shoulder and Beom-pal’s arm around his back as they huddle for warmth and thinking _palace…get to the palace and start a fire, palace…start a fire…_

That’s exactly what he did.

Others in somewhat better shape eventually trickled in, heaping flammable things onto the small fire Yeong-shin had started until there was a roaring blaze in the middle of the courtyard. From there, they frantically stripped off their sopping wet clothes. It would be ironic for them to survive all they had to freeze to death _in_ _front_ of a fire.

He vaguely remembered pushing the prince to sit as close to the fire as he could without being burned, helping prop him up (and leaning heavily against his back in return) as they warmed themselves.

Somehow, they survived the night.

By morning (where had the night gone?) they were dry and somewhat more aware of their surroundings. In total, no more than fifty of them had survived the night.

Gathering in the courtyard, the survivors bowed to their new King.

_They survived…._

They worked the rest of the morning beheading corpses and taking stock of the dead. In light of what had happened over the past few months, such comparatively mundane activities did little to burn themselves into Yeong-shin’s increasingly shoddy memory. Except for the monster, partially decapitated and unable to moved, who snarled in Yeong-shin’s ear as he bent to pick something off the ground.

The thing he had suffered a minor heart attack for happened to belong to Seo-bi.

He wasn’t the first one to find her. No, that title belonged to the prince. When Yeong-shin walked in ahead of the ministers on his tail, the first thing he saw was the prince, a sword held above his head, ready to strike. His target….Seo-bi. And the stolen child.

Before Yeong-shin could even form a reaction to that, the sword clattered from the prince’s hands.

“Tell me right now, can I trust you?” he heard the prince ask her, voice no stronger than a whisper. “Are you sure this child is not sick with the disease?”

“I’m sure of it, your Highness,” the physician answered immediately, cradling the baby tightly to her chest.

Then the ministers barged in, nearly ordering the prince to kill the boy to prevent the country from devolving into civil war. The prince stared at them, anguish plaguing his exhausted face.

“Two cannot rule! Kill the boy at once!” the minster exclaimed, staring intently at the prince.

The prince turned back to Seo-bi and the child. He made no move to pick up his sword.

“I’ll agree with you on one thing,” he murmured. “Between the two of us…one has to be put to death.”

Yeong-shin felt suddenly colder than he had even in the frigid waters of the lake.

“That said…which of us truly deserves to die?”

Yeong-shin shook his head.

_No._

“He is a prince,” the true King lied. “And I…am not even the Queen’s son. I am the son of a concubine. I killed my father with my bare hands.” Tears were dripping down his face then. “If you must choose between the two of us, which do we need more to rule this starving, disease ridden country? I ask you, which would you choose to live?”

_No no no…_

He turned and smiled down at the baby. “This child…may be the only hope left for this country. All those who intended to use him are dead now. So please…” He took a deep, shaking breath. “Guide him. Teach him to rule. Do right by him…so that he may become a just and fair King…”

Whatever else he said, Yeong-shin couldn’t hear it over the roaring in his ears.

The ministers bowed to him as he left, bowed to their true King, the man they needed, the King they deserved, but Yeong-shin couldn’t. No, he glared at the prince as he passed, unbridled _fury_ welling up in his chest and mingling with utter despair because how dare he _how dare he—_

As the others stayed behind to gape at their new King, Yeong-shin followed the now former prince out. He caught up to him in the hallway, grabbed him by his bloody sleeve and whipped him around, shoving him against a half broken down door and pinning him there by the arms.

“You don’t get to do that,” he snarled in the man’s face. “You don’t get to just fucking _walk away_ , to go off and kill yourself after…after _everything_.”

“Yeong-shin—“ The prince tried to move, but Yeong-shin held him fast.

“Why don’t you just say the child died? Hmm? Go out a find a dead baby and present that as the kid, return this boy to his mother where he belongs and rule!”

“Yeong—“

Yeong-shin’s breath came hard and fast as he _shouted_ at the prince. “I won’t let you die! I did not almost fucking _drown_ last night just for you to go and commit suicide today! _You_ did not survive _all that shit_ just to die today! I won’t let you do it, if you want to kill yourself you’ll have to get through me and you’re not good enough to do that—“

“Yeong-shin ah.”

The prince’s soft voice and the endearment silenced him in a second. The prince leaned forward and pressed his forehead to the hunter’s, reaching up to carefully hold Yeong-shin by the forearms.

“I never said anything about killing myself,” he said softly. “I said only that history would read that I died, but I myself have no intention of dying today. I may have just abdicated the throne…” His voice cracked. “But there is still good to be done… There are still things that need to change and those things are still my responsibility. You’re absolutely correct, I would have no right to abandon them now. This all started in an attempt to dethrone me, I have to go at least _try_ and fix it...”

Yeong-shin’s throat was tightening up. He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t breath, tears were blurring his vision so badly he couldn’t even _see_ …

“Will you come with me?”

The tears spilled over. “Always,” Yeong-shin whispered, voice catching on a sob as the prince shushed him gently, pulling him into a hug. “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on a few things: 
> 
> First: the “it’s going to be okay” is a nod to my fellow healthcare worker who tested me for covid and said those words to me as I sat in my car, very alone and very afraid. 
> 
> Second: Yeong-shin not remembering fights. The first reason for this is that I have never enjoyed writing fight scenes, nor am I very good at it. The second is that I, as a martial artist myself, do not remember a single sparring match I have ever participated in. Friends of mine who have fought in higher level competition fights report the same thing. They don’t remember a single thing from their POV and any memories they do have they only reacquired after being told what had happened or watching footage of the fight. Adrenaline be like that sometimes. 
> 
> Third: Yeong-shin’s heroics at the lake based on the film Unbroken about an American POW defying physical limits in a Japanese internment camp. It’s a good film, you should see it. All other references are not mine and I do not claim them to be so.
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! Let me know what you think <3


	5. Shatter Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chang's POV of the events of season 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, you guys are gonna hate me for this <3 Kudos if you can find the Peaky Blinders reference. As always, mind the tags. Quarantine has not made me any less brutal. Title from the song Shatter Me by Lindsey Stirling

_In…out…in…out…_

Chang’s breath echoed in his ears. The fire crackling next to him seemed to nearly roar. Everything had seemed so loud since that battle…yet not nearly loud enough. Not loud enough to drown out the yowls of the monsters, their howls, their _screams_ , it was almost as if the souls they used to be were still there screaming in agony...

His hands hadn’t stopped shaking since he’d made it back to the citadel. He’d walked out of that tunnel to see the refugees crowding around, begging to know what had happened, how was it that the monsters were out in the daylight?!

Already trembling with leftover adrenaline from the fight for their lives, he had looked around at the desperate people before turning back to his fellow survivors…

Out of everyone —all the guards, commoners, nobles— who had built the barricades, who had manned them…the small cluster of men behind him were all that survived, plus a few from other barricades who had made it over the walls… Everyone else…

Everyone else had made it back too, hadn’t they? It’s just that they were down there now, howling for blood like the ones who had killed them.

Chang shivered and clenched his shaking hands into fists. They still wouldn’t stop.

“Your Highness!”

He jumped at the sound of a voice. Mu-yeong’s, as it were. His…friend…climbed the stairs and walked up to him, smiling as he held out a gat, looking quite pleased with himself. Chang stared at it, numbness making his arms feel heavier than the stone walls of Sangju. He turned back to look over them.

Mu-yeong sighed and patiently placed the gat on his head anyway.

It took everything in Chang to keep himself from bursting into tears then and there as his heart _ached_ , he struggled to remember a time he had felt this much pain before. Yet at the same time, he wondered if he would have even been able to cry.

_The few survivors pushed their way through the crowds and towards the administrative buildings. Their operation had well and truly failed, and they needed to regroup._

_Chang had been itching to figure something out, everyone sit down and we will_ work this out _, but Lord Ahn had discretely rested a hand on Chang’s forearm, silencing him with the careful touch, as he recommended everyone take a moment to center themselves, wash their faces, and drink a cup of water. They would meet again in an hour, hopefully with fresher minds to make better decisions._

_Shame flooded through Chang, making his hand shake all the harder as he hid them in the folds of his robes. If he had only been of sounder mind when they were coming up with the plan to protect Sangju, perhaps he could have put together something that would have worked._

_His mind raced over the other options he had considered. Why hadn’t he ordered the brides blown out? Why hadn’t they dug a trench across the dirt bridge over the swamp? Water, that was their only defense, why hadn’t he_ thought of that—

_“Your Highness?”_

_He flinched._

_Lord Ahn was the only one who remained in the council chamber with him. Chang hadn’t noticed the others leave. His old master sighed and shut the council doors._

_“Please sit down, your Highness.”_

_Chang did so, shakily._

_Lord Ahn poured two cups of water and handed one to Chang before dragging a chair closer to his and sitting down near him. Chang held the cup with both hands. It still shook._

_“Your Highness, there is something we must discuss,” Lord Ahn said carefully._

_“Yes?” Chang breathed, willing himself to focus and hoping his anxiety hadn’t been too obvious._

_“It is the matter of the mole.”_

_Chang’s blood ran cold. The mole. He didn’t want to think about the mole._

_“I feel the identity of the mole,” his old master went on. “Is now apparent.”_

_“How do you mean?”_

_The Lord regarded him kindly. “I think you know who it is.”_

_“I’m not sure what you mean,” Chang replied blandly, staring straight ahead and feeling absolutely nothing._

_“Chang,” Lord Ahn sighed patiently. “There is no one else it could be.”_

_Numbness was replaced with anger so quickly it surprised him. “I don’t know what you mean!” he nearly shouted, fingers tightening around the cup in his hands._

_His old master remained completely unfazed, waiting in silence as Chang warred with himself._

_Who else could it be? Who else would have known_ everything, _every detail? Who else had been with him every step of the way for the past four years? Who else would have been able to so perfectly predict his movements?_

_And who else did he know to have had a problem with gambling? Who else did he know to have fallen on hard times and resorted to stealing_ twice _in the past? Who else would have been a_ perfect _target for the Cho clan—_

_The cup in his hands clattered to the floor._

_Lord Ahn sat with him, a nonjudgemental presence beside him as Chang struggled to keep the rattle in his chest from growing any louder, fought to keep the rising blackness from drowning him._

Chang adjusted the gat on his head as he brushed past Mu-yeong, tying the straps as he walked down the stairs. The guard followed quickly behind him.

“Your Highness, I overheard Lord Ahn Hyeon say an odd thing to one of his men,” Mu-yeong whispered urgently as he walked a step behind Chang. “They spoke as if they already knew many things about this disease.”

The words grated on Chang’s ears. _Shut up, please just shut up…_

“And it seems Cho Hak-ju is implicated as well!”

_When wasn’t he implicated._

Chang walked with his spine painfully straight, his steps even.

“Your Highness,” Mu-yeong urged him. “I believe it is best to leave this place.”

Something in Chang’s soul cracked.

“I will escort you.”

_I trusted you._

“You will be much safer.”

_And you sold me out._

_“_ Back through the passage and up the north branch.”

_You were my friend. After everything I did for you, what did they offer that I couldn’t? How much did your loyalty cost?_

_You want to take me away, and what would you do with me if I went? Hand me over to them?_

_I actually trusted you…_

“Why are you sharing this information with me?” he asked, voice carefully neutral.

“Sir?”

Chang turned himself around and looked Mu-yeong in the eye. “Did Cho Hak-ju command you to do it?” he bit out, pain shaking his voice.

Mu-yeong visibly flinched, drawing away from him. “Your Highness…”

“Lord Ahn told me that the palace guards knew I was en route to here…” he swallowed hard and forced the words out. “Was that your doing?”

Once, such a long time ago now, Chang had returned to his rooms to find something had fallen from a shelf and broken. Chang had asked Mu-yeong about it, more out of worry that someone had been in his quarters without his knowledge than actually believing Mu-yeong had broken it and tried to hide it.

The guard had been flabbergasted, had stood there spluttering for a solid minute. Almost indignantly he had sworn it wasn’t him, saying he would never try and lie about something he had done, he would always own up to it! He had then bustled about the room looking for any clues about who the person might have been and promised Chang he would find whoever had been in his rooms without permission by the end of the day and had run out before Chang could even get a word in.

True to his word, he had found the bumbling eunuch by dinner.

Contrasting that was the incident where Chang caught him stealing food. Mu-yeong had spoken the truth when he said he would never lie about what he did. Eventually he did own up to it. But before that, he had sat perfectly still, face carefully neutral.

Mu-yeong had the same look on his face now. His added silence was all the confirmation Chang needed.

He nodded slowly, eyes stinging as tears filled them. “So, then…” he whispered shakily. “Are you trying to sow doubt between Lord Ahn and I right now? To what end? To take me away and…and hand me over to them?”

Mu-yeong’s eyes were red and shiny too. “Your Highness,” he replied quietly. “You assume you cannot trust me now?”

Mere days ago he had stood behind Mu-yeong, who had furiously drawn his sword against a company of palace guards, screaming at them to stay back as he put himself between Chang and danger for the millionth time in the four years Chang had known him, and Chang had thanked the ancestors that Mu-yeong was not the traitor…

“I left everything, my pregnant wife, I left my _family_ to follow you. I’ve come all the way to Gyeongsang for you. And even now, you still don’t trust me?”

Chang trembled as the unshed tears in his eyes blurred his vision so badly he couldn’t see.

_You know who the traitor is, Chang._

_Even now, you still don’t trust me?_

A sob caught in his throat. _I don’t know,_ he wanted to scream as he stood there, paralyzed. _I don’t know, I don’t know, I DON’T KNOW—_

Somewhere off in the distance, Chang heard someone shout “Fire!” before the sound of an explosion echoed through the city.

They took off running, and perhaps it would have been a welcome diversion —space to _think_ , an outlet for the grief and rage burning Chang alive— were it not for what they found when they arrived.

The warehouse, the same warehouse Chang knew to contain the city’s emergency food reserves, had gone up in flames. Not long after they arrived, it burned to the ground. They could only watch in horror as the structure collapsed despite the people’s best efforts to extinguish the flames, sending a wave of embers up into the cold night sky.

It was almost like their hope. Flickering…flickering….

Gone.

Yelling drew Chang away from his empty-eyed stare at the sky.

The commander of the city guards was screaming at a man cowering on the ground, his sword drawn and held menacingly in his hand as he threatened to kill him for his negligence.

Chang tried to reach into himself and find the will to step in, because they had all seen so much death, why make more? But he couldn’t find any. He was too numb.

Another man, a councilor, stepped forward then and confessed to attempting to steal the rice for his child and making a mistake that had the potential to cost the whole city their lives, but what did it matter because they were all going to die anyway, what would a few more days of life have truly done for them other than prolong their suffering?

Chang was so, _so_ tired.

Mu-yeong followed silently behind him as he made his way back through the city streets. Chang bristled.

_If he were innocent, he’d still be howling about how he’d never betray me._

A bitter mix of apathy and terror made him shake as he walked and he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t _stand_ to hear Mu-yeong’s footsteps behind him. So he picked up the pace, using his height to his advantage as he walked quickly and took a convoluted route through the city’s houses, twisting and turning though the alleys with no real rhyme or reason to it.

“Your Highness!” he heard Mu-yeong call a ways behind him. “Your Highness, slow down.”

He didn’t, he only walked faster.

“Your Highness…”

He made another sharp turn and listened as Mu-yeong’s footsteps faded behind him. The guard had undoubtedly realized Chang was trying to lose him and had stopped trying to follow. Further admission of his guilt, as far as Chang was concerned.

His chest ached so badly he reached up a hand to press against it, as if the extra pressure could somehow contain all the pain. He wasn’t sure how long he roamed aimlessly through the houses, hoping that eventually the bitter air would clear out his head enough for him to think a halfway formed thought. He roamed until he heard an odd noise coming from down a secluded alley.

Someone was just over there, leaning against the rock wall. Looking closer, Chang could make out how they held their head in their hands and how they shook as they sobbed bitter, broken sobs. It was dark, and Chang couldn’t make out any distinguishing features on the person. Maybe they wouldn’t be able to make him out either. In that moment, burdened by his own grief and therefore empathetic to this person’s plight, all Chang wanted to do was help in any way he could.

He reached out, carefully touching the person’s shoulder and was about to ask if they were all right when he was suddenly being vaulted across the alleyway with an astonishing amount of force.

His back collided with the rock wall hard enough to leave bruises and knock the wind out of him. Before Chang could even think to react, the other person was on him, holding him to the wall with the length of their body, pressing the knife to his throat that they had pulled out of their sleeve—

Wait.

Even as his mind battered him with feelings of _danger terror call Mu-yeong fight FIGHT_ , he looked to try and see the man’s face —because it was a man— in the dark. And barely, just barely, he made out the face of Yeong-shin.

He called the man’s name, forcing himself to remain perfectly still so as not to spook him further. The man’s body jerked against him and he froze.

“Yeong-shin…” he said again, softly, sure now that it was him.

The hunter stared at him a moment long before recognition and then _horror_ dawned on his face and he shoved himself away from Chang. The knife in his hand clattered into the mud as his body quaked and he sobbed hysterically, hands clutched tightly in his hair.

Chang stayed where he was against the wall for a long moment, merely bearing witness to Yeong-shin’s pain because he had no idea what else to do. Never before had he seen such an outpouring of grief from one man. Desperately, he tried to think of something, _anything_ , he could do…

_What did you need when you were overcome like this?_

It might not have been the same thing, but it was close enough.

Pushing himself off the wall and wincing as his sore muscles spasmed, he thought back on his attacks, what had managed to calm down.

“Shhh,” he whispered, very gently reaching out to touch Yeong-shin’s shoulder again so as not to startle him. When the man didn’t react, he carefully rested his palm on Yeong-shin’s heaving chest, rubbing back and forth slowly.

“Deep breaths,” Chang murmured. “It’s all right…you’re all right…”

Slowly, Yeong-shin’s sobs started to quiet and he lifted his head, staring wide eyed at him. Chang couldn’t help but smile upon seeing his face. He rested his hand on the hunter’s cheek, gently brushing away the still falling tears.

Chang was in no position to even begin untangling the complicated mess of emotions he had harbored towards Yeong-shin since they spent the night together. It had only been a day, it wasn’t as if he had had much time to dwell on it, but all the same…

All the same he had still looked for him before the battle that morning. He had still felt a wash of fear when he looked behind him and saw Yeong-shin had not followed the rest of them out of the secret tunnel leading into Sangju. Had felt something like relief when Yeong-shin emerged a few moments later, haunted eyes staring blankly ahead. And now, as he stood there, certain that Yeong-shin was not the one who had sold him out to his worst enemies (that perhaps he truly _had_ wanted to help him, hadn’t just wanted him for the pleasure Chang’s body could give him)…

Perhaps that was naive, but Chang’s bleeding soul wanted so much to believe it.

Yeong-shin was staring at him now, an utterly dumbfounded look on his face as Chang continued to brush a wayward tear or two from his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” the hunter whispered, trembling.

_For what?_ Chang briefly wondered.

_“I hurt you…I didn’t come here to hurt you!” Yeong-shin had nearly shouted at him the night before. “Violence doesn’t fix anything!”_

Ah.

…He’d been right.

An unidentifiable emotion burning in his chest, he gazed down at the smaller man still shaking under his hands as Yeong-shin said again, “I’m sorry…”

Chang wasn’t sure what possessed him to do it. Maybe it was because they almost died that day more times than he could count. Or maybe it was because they might still die very soon and Chang had wanted to do it the previous night but hadn’t…

Whatever the reason, the only thing he could think to do was lean down and kiss Yeong-shin’s trembling lips.

The warmth that spread through his entire body was unlike anything he had ever felt before. It made him want to melt into the kiss more, so he did, pressing his lips more firmly to the hunter’s. Beyond that though…he had absolutely no idea what to do, he had never done this before. He could read about the mechanics of whatever kind of sex he wanted, so he knew about that, but this…

Thankfully, he didn’t have to flounder for very long. Yeong-shin had briefly frozen at first, but now he was twisting his hands in the the front of Chang’s robes and quite literally kissing the breath out of him, just like in the romantic poems one of the court ladies had left in the garden that Chang, with nothing better to do one day, had picked up and read (and, secretly, wanted to experience one day, though he hadn’t held out much hope for it).

The hunter must have sensed his inexperience because he quickly gentled his touch, patiently moving his lips against Chang’s as the prince scrambled to catch up. Yeong-shin’s hands brushed tenderly over his ribs and Chang had never loved anything more than the feeling of the hunter’s slightly chapped lips under his own. He wondered, almost giddily, how he had lived without this feeling.

Soon, far too soon, Yeong-shin broke away from him. Chang leaned after him, hoping to entice him into another kiss. There was a small smile on Yeong-shin’s face as he closed his fingers in the material of Chang’s robes and walked backward, pulling Chang with him. Yeong-shin’s back hit the wall and he immediately boosted himself up onto it, now at a more equal height with Chang.

_Oh._

The hunter pulled Chang to stand between his spread thighs (heat flared low in Chang’s belly at the feeling of Yeong-shin’s knees on his waist) and cupped his face in his hands.

_Kiss me,_ Chang nearly pleaded with him as the hunter’s fingers plucked at the ties of his gat, carefully pulling the knot loose. _Kiss me…_

Yeong-shin’s eyes were soft in the dim light as his thumb stroked gently over his cheek before he knocked the hat from his head and kissed him so passionately Chang nearly swooned.

He surged forward to meet the hunter, copying the passionate movements as best he could, entirely oblivious to anything but the feeling of Yeong-shin’s lips on his, his waist and thighs under Chang’s hands—

The hunter’s tongue pressed hot and slick to the seam of Chang’s lips and the prince gasped in surprise. Yeong-shin took the opportunity to press into Chang’s mouth and Chang let out a decidedly undignified sound. The feeling was foreign, strange, but... not wholly unpleasant…

One could almost say that Chang rather liked it.

Desire pooled low in his belly as he returned the motions, as Yeong-shin wrapped an arm around his neck, tilting Chang’s head just a bit to the right and _oh_ that was so much better. Their kisses took on a heated edge now that Chang had caught up and they pressed themselves together as close as they could. The prince could feel Yeong-shin’s arousal against his belly and Chang _wanted_ , he wanted so badly it frightened him. It was such a new feeling, this wanting, and he thought, just briefly, to take this a step farther when—

“YOUR HIGHNESS?!”

Chang ripped himself away from Yeong-shin at the sound of Mu-yeong’s voice, terrified that they’d been caught — _the Haewon Cho clan would have a field day with this—_ but the guard’s voice was far off amongst the houses.

His breath fogged the air in front of his face as he stared at Yeong-shin, willing himself to calm down.

_Thankfully his robes were loose._

Yeong-shin stared back at him, breath heavy as he braced his hands on the rock wall, arousal still obviously tenting his pants. He ducked his head, motioning vaguely in the direction of Mu-yeong’s voice as the guard called for Chang again.

But Chang didn’t want to go, to hell with Mu-yeong — _he fucking sold me out_ — he wanted to stay here. He wanted to kiss Yeong-shin like that again. He wanted Yeong-shin with him anywhere private where the floor was anything but mud. He wanted to pull Yeong-shin atop him and let the hunter have him again like he had the previous night, only this time Chang wouldn’t fuck it up. Oh, how he _wanted_ …

But, despite being a prince, he very rarely got sat he wanted. So he bent down and picked his gat up out of the mud. Thankfully, it wasn’t too dirty.

He thought to go. He should go, before Mu-yeong found them there…

But he couldn’t take his eyes off Yeong-shin, sitting there on the wall, hair in disarray, gaze still fixed on the ground.

_In all of this mess, he was…_ Chang thought, that foreign, warm, all consuming feeling spreading through him again as his lips still tingled from their feverish kisses… _Quite lovely, wasn’t he?_

So he stepped forward, curling his fingers gently under Yeong-shin’s jaw and lifted his face up just to see him again. Yeong-shin stared at him so surprised, and Chang couldn’t help the small smile that crossed his face before he leaned back down on a whim, pressing a soft parting kiss to the hunter’s lips before he drew himself away.

He could feel the hunter’s gaze on his back as he walked away to wards the sound of Mu-yeong’s voice, putting the gat back on his head and tying the straps under his chin. Just before he walked back out into the light, he couldn’t help but press his fingers to his lips, almost as if to reassure himself it had actually happened, that he hadn’t simply dreamt it.

So that was what it felt like to kiss someone…

*******

Lord Ahn was staring at him from across the table.

_So is everyone else,_ he reasoned. _Your plan is just a little unhinged._

Chang resisted the urge to fidget or lick his lips.

They had been at this for hours. There was no other way. They were trapped, entirely surrounded by monsters, with no food save what people already had in their homes. They would plead with the people to share what they had with the refugees, but that was not a solution for more than a day, if that.

There was no other way to go about it. If anyone in Sangju was to survive, they had to get to Mungyeong Saejae and remove Lord Cho as head of the Five Armies. From there, with more men and better weapons, they could devise a rescue mission for the people sheltered here, but they had to get to Mungyeong Saejae, or everyone would die.

“There is no other way,” he said again, meeting Lord Ahn’s gaze and entirely ignoring Mu-yeong on the other side of the table, sealing up his feelings on that matter into a tight little box to be hidden away as they threatened to bring tears to his eyes for the third time that night. “I will go to Mungyeong Saejae, and to do so I will require your best men.”

Lord Ahn, face formerly neutral, slumped back in his chair, eyes never leaving Chang’s face. Nevertheless, he agreed.

Chang let out a soft breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. His limbs tingled, rather in relief that they had finally agreed on a plan or bitter anticipation of having to face the monsters again so soon, he wasn’t sure.

He felt eerily calm as he walked back to the rooms he’d been shown. It was as if everything else save the task ahead had been fogged over. And yet, as he looked down at his hands, he found them shaking. He clenched them into fists, stopping in his tracks.

“Your Highness?” Mu-yeong asked carefully, stopping a few paces behind him.

Out of the blue and through the calm, the little box cracked open and Chang was hit with such a blast of _angerbetrayalpaingriefsadnessagonystopitSTOP_ that he nearly swung around and punched Mu-yeong in the face.

He restrained himself, eyes fixed on his trembling fists as a headache made itself known behind his left eye.

_I can’t do this I can’t I can’t I—_

“Bring me Yeong-shin,” he said without thinking, raising a hand to rub at his eye.

“Your Highness?”

“Did you not hear me?”

He heard the guard bow and leave to find the hunter. Never in four years could Chang remember speaking so coolly to his friend…or rather the man who used to be.

His heart felt empty.

*******

He put on the black robes they had brought him so as to better blend in to the night and decrease their chances of being shot down before they even reached the wall. He was inspecting his blade (sharp, so sharp, he accidentally sliced his finger on the tip of it, how was it still so sharp after all the damage it had wrought?) when the door cracked open.

He turned to find none other than the tiger hunter standing there, every bit as disheveled as he had been out in that alleyway, only now Chang could see all of him uninhibited by darkness.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he had called Yeong-shin here. He told himself it was because he wanted to run the plan by him before they executed it, but that wasn’t true because the plan was already going forward no matter what Yeong-shin thought of it. Then he told himself it was because he wanted to ask the tiger hunter to be part of the team, but that was a given.

In truth…

(At that point in time, Chang hadn’t been ready to admit the truth to himself, hadn’t known how to.

The truth was that Chang had been in pain of one sort or another since the day of his late mother’s funeral when he finally understood she was gone for good. The pain, the uncertainty, the danger, and the paranoia had been unrelenting for two and a half decades.

But now —and what he had been far too strung out at the time to understand—was that there, with Yeong-shin near him, in his arms, in his bed, that pain had lessened.)

Yeong-shin himself was staring at the prince as though frozen in time, his dark eyes roving up and down his frame before he remembered himself and, with a little jerk, dipped his head.

“You wanted to see me, your Highness?”

The corner of Chang’s mouth twitched. His title in Yeong-shin’s mouth sounded almost foreign, his respectful posture alien. “Yes,” Chang answered, moving to stand in front of him.

_Why did you call him here?_

_I don’t know…_

_Well, think of something!_

“Did Mu-yeong explain the plan to you?” His former friend’s name tasted bitter on his tongue.

“He said you’re going to Mungyeong Saejae,” Yeong-shin said without looking up. “But I must have heard wrong.”

“You heard right.”

Yeong-shin met his eyes then.

“There are hundreds if not thousands of monsters between here and there.”

Chang nodded. “That’s true.”

“And even if we manage to make it to the city, we will be treated by _five armies_.”

Yes, Chang could see the look on Cho Hak-ju’s face already, the second before Chang killed him. “Oh, I hope so.”

Yeong-shin gaped at him, something that couldn’t have possibly been fear sparking through his eyes. No certainly not, not on a man as fearless as him. “Your Highness, you can’t go there!”

“And why not?” Chang asked, slightly taken aback by the strength with which Yeong-shin had said that.

“Because you will die!”

Ah, the age old reason. “As I will if I stay here,” he reasoned. “Along with the rest of Joseon.” He regarded Yeong-shin for a moment, remembering their first real conversation at Jiyulheon when the hunter had volunteered to be their guide to Sangju. “You are a veteran, yes?”

Yeong-shin eyed him warily. “…Yes.”

“Then you can tell me if my reasoning is solid or not.” _Because there could be a hundred Cho moles here, but I very much doubt you are one of them._

_You doubted Mu-yeong was one._

_Shut up._

Shakily, Yeong-shin agreed that Chang’s plan was a solid one and just like that, their conversation came to a close. Chang searched for a reason to stay, but could find nothing.

Yeong-shin’s voice stopped him as he turned to the door.

“Allow me to come with you!” the man said quickly, an odd edge to his voice.

When Chang turned back to him, he couldn’t keep a small smile from his face. “I was assuming you would.”

The hunter let out a breath and nodded, squaring his shoulders. Chang turned back to the door. _Time to go._ But he couldn’t bring himself to open it.

Once a very long time ago, right when the war with the Japanese had broken out, all men who were able to fight (save him of course. He had _hated_ that. He understood it, had even been grateful because of how easy it would have been for the Haewon Cho clan to kill him on a battlefield and blame it on the enemy, but he had simply _despised_ the powerlessness he felt in its midst) had been conscripted into the army. He had watched, hidden away after having successfully ditched his personal guard at the time, as they said goodbye to their loved ones. They had kissed their wives, several of them saying it was good luck to do so.

And Chang had always wondered…

He turned to face Yeong-shin. “I heard it said once…” he began slowly. “That it is good luck to kiss someone before embarking on a mission. Is that true?”

The hunter was silent for a moment. “Who’s to say, really.”

Chewing on the inside of his cheek in a burst of anxiety, Chang approached him. “Well…it can’t hurt right?”

_Who was he kidding, this plan was batshit crazy. It was a desperate, last ditch effort to save the people and they had to do it, but there was a large likelihood that none of them would live to see the sun rise again._

_And he just…_

_He didn’t want to die without feeling Yeong-shin’s lips on his again._

The hunter didn’t move, merely gazed up at him with an almost soft expression on his face as Chang cupped his cheek in his hand before leaning down to kiss him. Yeong-shin melted into him, his chapped lips slightly rough against Chang’s though their movements were gentle, and the strain on Chang’s bleeding, aching heart eased just a little. Just enough that he let out a sigh of relief.

He broke it before he could lose himself in it, eyes running over Yeong-shin’s face. The hunter gazed right back at him, a whirlwind of emotions crossing his face, pain, confusion, and hope chief among them.

“You don’t hate me…” he whispered, voice barely audible as his eyes searched Chang’s.

Chang frowned, hand curling just a little bit tighter around the back of Yeong-shin’s neck. “No...why would I?”

Truly, why would he?

Yeong-shin didn’t answer him. Instead, hands curling gently on either side of Chang’s waist, he leaned up to kiss him again. Briefly, softly, and despite everything (the traitor outside, the suicide mission in front of them, the monsters, Cho Hak-ju…) Chang felt, inexplicably, _safe_.

*******

_Beat....Beat...Beat..._

Sprinting to the walls. They were going to make it!

_Beat...Beat...Beat..._

There was no one in the camp. He should have found it strange, but he didn’t. He was too focused on reaching the citadel.

_Beat...Beat...Beat..._

He had lost the others somewhere and only had Mu-yeong behind him now. He should have found that worrisome, but he didn’t.

Guards attacked them at the gate, concentrating on Mu-yeong and failing to follow Chang into the citadel when he broke through their line.

He should have realized it was a trap,but he didn’t. He was too blinded by rage and the desire for revenge against Cho Hak-ju.

It was his undoing.

The doors slammed shut behind him.

Before he even had time to consider what that meant, he heard the telltale snarling of a monster echoing softly through the room. And his whole life fell apart.

*******

There was a difference, he learned very quickly, between understanding something to be true and seeing proof in front of you. Chasing you. Teeth mere inches from your throat…

“Father, stop it!” he begged as if the monster who used to be his father could hear him, voice coming out a strained sob. “Stop it please…”

The monster couldn’t hear him. His father’s soul had long departed his body, leaving _this_ in its wake. It had him pinned against the wall, the only thing keeping it back was the blunt edge of Chang’s blade against its chest (he couldn’t bear to hurt him). The sharp edge cut cleanly into Chang’s palm. He both could and couldn’t feel it slicing through his skin and into muscle beneath before finally grating on bone. It was a sickening feeling.

The monster smelled the blood running down his wrist and lunged for it, giving Chang the opportunity to throw him off. He bolted down the next hallway he saw. A door, another door, _there had to be a way out—_

Blindly he scrabbled at the walls, praying for one of them to give way.

_Get out get out he had to get out—_

The hallway…was a dead end. And he...was a dead man.

Slowly, he turned to where he knew the monster was approaching him.

_No…_

It was almost as if the thing knew it had cornered its prey. It crept toward him ominously, as if it were stalking him.

_Do not make me do this…._

_This I cannot do…_

But what walked out of the shadows was not the monster he was expected, but his father the King, dressed in his red formal robes.

_I’m hallucinating,_ part of him knew. _I’ve finally lost it…_

But he wanted so badly to believe it.

_He could remember a time, so very long ago, when his father had taken him out to the little island in the middle of the lake where no one could hear them and told him the truth of their situation._

_“Everyone I have ever loved has died or been denied their birthright. You are my only son and whatever I may say, however I may be forced to act, you are very important to me. Your survival is very important to me.”_

_So often, Chang had silently pleaded with his father to help him, to do something, had wondered why he never did._

_He had known he couldn’t, but he wondered why he wouldn’t even try…_

_I’m sorry I ever doubted you._

_“No matter what happens, you must survive. Your survival proves that you are different than them. And from me. Show them what a true King ought to be.”_

_He couldn’t, he couldn’t, this was too much, he—_

_“You have to, my son. It is not fair that you must. But all the same, you must.”_

Tears were pouring down his cheeks as he tightened his grip on his sword.

“I’m here father. It’s me, your son, Chang.”

The monster roared.

_*******_

He blinked once. Twice.

The doors were open and his father was standing in front of him. He was holding his sword like he had just struck something, though he couldn’t close his left hand around the hilt. There had just been gunshots, and a lot of them.

He was so confused.

His father’s head rolled off his shoulders at the same time as Lord Ahn dropped to the ground in the doorway, a dozen bullet wounds in his back and he _remembered_ and he _understood_...

Chang had no words to describe the devastation that stole the breath from his lungs. He had no words to describe the anguish that took the legs out from under him and had him retching onto the hardwood floor as his breath came in panicked gasps.

_Was this what it felt like to die?_

He couldn’t understand what he was seeing as Lord Ahn dragged himself across the floor and into Chang’s arms. Vaguely, Chang was aware of himself whispering, “I…I beheaded…I beheaded my father…” but that didn’t make sense, because he was sure he was the one who was dead.

He couldn’t possibly be alive after that. At least not in any way that mattered.

“Chang…” Lord Ahn barely managed. “Oh Chang…”

The Lord grabbed at Chang’s hands (at the hand cut nearly in half by his own sword. If he looked closely Chang could see the bone through the blood and gore) and pulled him into a desperate hug.

“None of this is your fault,” the Lord groaned, shaking in Chang’s arms. “You have to listen to me…”

Chang barely heard him, until Lord Ahn’s palm slapped harshly across his face.

“Listen to me,” he begged. “You have to prove it, you have to…when I’m gone… _turn me_ …”

Chang’s body shook as his mind drifted far away.

“Chang…” Lord Ahn’s breath rattled in his chest as blood bubbled past his lips. “I’m so sorry…”

He died right there in Chang’s arms.

And Cho Hak-ju ascended the steps with agonizing slowness, eyes fixed on Chang, victory shining in them as Chang quaked with terror ( _he was alone he was alone he was well and truly alone—)_. With painful precision he bowed and Chang could hear his unspoken words echo throughout the room.

_I have beaten you_.

Then he turned to the King’s severed head and howled, “NOT THE KING!” and it was too much for Chang, too much for his exhausted mind, his battered body, or his shattered soul. Lord Ahn’s body slipped from his arms as he too fell to the floor, shivering.

“The Five Armies shall arrest the traitors who beheaded his Majesty!” Cho Hak-ju bellowed.

_This King is dead_ , Chang thought dimly as soldiers rushed forward to bind him. _Long live the King._

*******

Somewhere in the fog of devastation, he couldn’t remember where exactly, he heard a voice.

_Highness…your Highness…Chang!_

Yeong-shin’s face came briefly into focus. His disheveled appearance was worse than normal, hair half pulled out of his bun, blood flecking his filthy face.

_Chang look at me…_

_It’s gonna be okay, you hear me?_

Chang blinked, part of him wondering what the hell he was talking about as another part of him howled in agony, asking _how_ was this going to be okay?!

He wasn’t sure, he couldn’t remember…

Hands grabbed at him then, and they were dragging him away from Yeong-shin _no stop it let me go!_

Pain flashed across Yeong-shin’s face as he held Chang’s gaze as long as he could.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

*******

Chang jerked as his eyes opened.

It was no longer night and he was no longer outside. They had apparently locked him in some sort of warehouse. He was sitting against a shelf, hands resting on his knees, gaze locked on the floor.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been there or how much time passed in between blinks.

Far off in the distance, he could hear snarls, his father’s voice whispering _I’m sorry_ , but that sounded vaguely like Lord Ahn’s voice as well. All he could smell and taste was blood, his eyes stung from Dongnae’s smoke and his right ear rang from the blast of a gunshot.

And he wasn’t… _entirely_ sure…all of that had actually happened to him, same as he wasn’t sure that the heartbeat pounding away in his one good ear was actually his or just the person he was watching (was that him?)

He hadn’t heard the door open (it was on his deaf side), nor had he seen the woman walk in (his eyes were still fixed on the floor.

“Your Highness…” A small part of him recognized the Jiyulheon physician Seo-bi’s voice. “How have you been feeling?”

She didn’t sound as if she was expecting an answer. That was good, because Chang didn’t have one. He couldn’t quite remember how to make his voice work, let alone begin to describe the white hot ball of emotions curdling somewhere in his chest. Whenever he got close to it, it screeched in agony and he drew away, settling back into the heavy grey mist.

What did she say?

She was reaching for him and even he could see there wasn’t a hint of malice in her posture, his mind still screamed _don’t touch me_ and he stopped her before she could get ahold of his left hand (it hurt, but it didn’t. It was the worst physical pain he had ever felt, and yet only around the edges, up into his wrist and on the back of his hand. The wound itself and his fingers below it were completely numb).

The feeling of human skin under his palm anchored him back down into his body with a jolt and suddenly he was floundering as pain overwhelmed him. He couldn’t tell if it was physical or emotional, but he couldn’t bear it he—

And then Cho Hak-ju’s terrible voice was echoing in his ears as Lord Ahn’s whispered _turn me turn me you have to turn me_ …

He took her hand as if in a trance, water dripping off her fingers from the wet cloth still in her grasp and he wrote the characters on the floor with her fingers. He hoped she could read.

If the slight gasp that escaped her as she drew the last character was anything to go by, she could.

Almost imperceptibly, she nodded her understanding. He made a vague motion with the fingers of his right hand.

_Go_.

She obeyed him.

*******

The next time the doors opened, it was the guards.

“Time to go,” one stated as they dragged him to his feet. He went willingly.

The morning air was brisk on his his face as he breathed it in and let it clear his head.

_This wasn’t over._ _He needed to—_

A gunshot coming from the main square broke him out of his thoughts. The guards hurried him along. Coming around the corner, he saw what had happened.

The surviving men they had come with, all lined up in a row on their knees. Yeong-shin with five blades to his throat, also on his knees. Cho Hak-ju, visibly shaken and covered in blood. A guard on the ground, slowly choking to death on his own blood.

_Ah,_ Chang thought dully. A crying shame Yeong-shin had missed. It wouldn’t have made the point Chang needed to make, but at least the real monster in the kingdom would be dead.

That’s when the screams started.

Men, yelling in terror as a monster _roared_ and a flag lifted into the air.

Chang pressed his lips together in something that might have been a smile.

_Seo-bi had come through._

Whatever slightly victorious feeling Chang might have felt vanished as the monster came into view and he was reminded of exactly who the monster had been, of exactly who Chang would have to watch die.

Again.

He wouldn’t lie that it was satisfying in a sickening sort of way, watching tens of soldiers trying and failing to take out one monster (they were all doomed), and the vindication he felt upon seeing what used to be Lord Ahn tear into Cho Hak-ju’s face was a heady high indeed.

At the same time, he wanted to vomit. His mentor — _his surrogate father—_ had been a kind, respectable, composed man. He had never been _this_ and Chang hated that he would remember him by it.

All of the soldiers just fucking stood there, petrified, as the monster tore into Lord Cho. Chang thought to let him. Let the monster rip Lord Cho to pieces, let him die painfully for all the agony he had caused Chang over the past three decades.

_You did this to me, you did this—_

Then something else came over him. The want, no, the _need_ for Cho Hak-ju to see him win. To see him _finally_ beat him. And…

_Beom-il’s head on the ground. Chang had hated him and the feeling had been mutual, but it was not a good feeling to see him dead so horribly. Beom-il had been the first person Chang had ever killed, and that haunted him every bit as much as all the other terrible things he had since seen._

_He didn’t want to see this._

_All the screams of the dying, he didn’t want to hear that again._

So he swiped a sword from the nearest guard and…

And he ended it.

He cut his former mentor’s head from his shoulders and saved Cho Hak-ju’s life (for a minute, anyway). The sound of sharp iron cutting through flesh and bone echoed in his ears. He _hated_ that sound…

_His father’s head on the floor._

_Lord Ahn dead in his arms._

_The countless monsters he had killed._

_The little girl dead at Jiyulheon, had he forgotten her so quickly?_

It was too much, truly, for a human soul to bear and he stumbled, body threatening to fail him completely. But Cho Hak-ju was still there. Still alive. Lord Ahn was dead because of him. So was the King. And the girl. And end every monster roaming these lands. Every nightmare, every single time Chang had looked over his shoulder, it was because of Cho Hak-ju. And he wanted Chang to crumble here, didn’t he?

Chang wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Out of sheer spite, he straightened his back.

“If you want to kill these undead monsters—” he shouted at the top of his lungs, sealing away his grief and pain and allowing his vision to cloud red with _rage_ (it was the only thing keeping him standing). “—focus your attacks on the head!”

“This isn’t possible….” the commander stammered behind him. “Lord Ahn…Lord Ahn was dead. I saw his body…”

“He was,” Chang confirmed. “As you all witnessed with your own eyes, Lord Ahn did indeed die. But that physician,” he went on, locking eyes with Seo-bi. “Was able to bring him back to life. The _same_ way Cho Hak-ju brought my father, the King, back from the dead!”

He bid Seo-bi explain how she did it and she obeyed, speaking in a quiet but sure voice.

_Speak loudly, my dear,_ he thought. _You may very well have saved the dynasty. You deserve to be heard._

They showed the commander proof in the form of the King’s patient journal. The poor man looked about to fall over from shock (Chang could relate), but he held his ground.

“And my father,” Chang said, biting his cheek. “Tried to tell the truth. But the Haewon Cho clan and their leader, Cho Hak-ju, silenced him! And now they accuse _me_ of treason?! They claim I am after the throne, but I’m not—”

_How could he be. The thought of returning to Hanyang made him nauseous and rage only barely kept the incapacitating devastation at bay. He would make a terrible King in this state._

_But there was no one else, and how many people had already died so that he could be King? He owed it to them to try._

“—I desire only to see the Haewon Cho clan punished for what they have done to my Kingdom and to my people.”

He detailed what they had done, watching as the soldiers who had followed him looked sick — _don’t, you were just following orders. You have suffered from this, too—_

“Open your eyes and ears now!” he shouted. “The people of this land are suffering, but we can still right the wrongs that have been committed. Now is the time to rise up!” He looked out over the crowds of soldiers and to the trembling commander to his left. “We can fix this. I implore you, do rightby your country, and help me fix this.”

The commander agreed.

*******

The first order of business was to get food and medicine to the starving refugees in Sangju. Despite the relative lunacy of his past few plans (which had all, to some extent or another, actually worked), he had to admit this one was a special kind of creative.

Fire _cannons_ in the vague vicinity of a _kite_ attached to a wagon filled with supplies and hope the men could run faster than cannonballs? Excellent job, Chang, you’ve secured a path to the throne only to be deposed for _losing your goddamn mind._

(A slightly crazy plan was the least of his worries. His hands hadn’t stopped shaking in days and he saw the faces of both his father figures —the ones he had beheaded with his own two hands— in every older man he laid eyes on. And each time, he watched their heads roll off their shoulders, right in front of him).

The plan was set and preparations were being made. He had just been walking out to oversee them when he was stopped by Seo-bi.

“Your Highness,” she said with a respectful bow.

“What is it?” He flinched slightly at his own sharp tone, but she didn’t seem to take offense. 

“If your Highness has a moment, it is imperative that I bandage your wounds.”

Chang shook his head. “I don’t have a moment,” he said and started to leave.

_He couldn’t possibly sit down, if he stopped, if he sat down it would all come back and he didn’t know if he would be able to bear it if it did—_

“If your Highness does not wish to risk losing your hand,” she called after him. “I would recommend you find a moment.”

He sighed heavily, shoulders drooping. He couldn’t rightly bring himself to care in the face of everything, especially since he had risked losing his head for the duration of his entire life. But he relented all the same at her respectful but firm stare.

She sat him down back in the council room, scurrying off before quickly returning with medical supplies and water (he was grateful for her speed, in the brief moment she had left him alone, the panic creeping up his throat had nearly choked him).

She settled on the floor in front of him, reaching for his left hand. He watched dully as her eyes widened as she examined the injury up close.

“How did this happen?” she asked.

_His father, snapping for his throat, father please stop it’s me, your son, please don’t make me kill you, I can’t I can’t I…did._

He jerked a little at her gentle touch on his wrist, bringing him back to the present. He didn’t answer her question and she didn’t press him further, turning her attention to the injury.

“Can you move your fingers at all?”

“No.”

“Thumb?”

He tried, and the digit made only the faintest twitch up. And just that tiny movement _hurt_ like _hell._ He hissed sharply, curling over his hand as he tried out of reflex to jerk it from her grip. She carefully but firmly held onto it, poking at his fingers.

“Can you feel that?”

“No.”

“Where is the pain?”

The fog in his head no longer hiding his injury from his consciousness, he was made very aware of the absence of feeling in his fingers and the agony that seemed to encase the rest of his hand.

“Below the cut,” he hissed out through clenched teeth. “And on the back of my hand.”

Seo-bi sighed heavily as she reached for a cloth and began to rinse the blood from his skin. He leaned his head on his right hand and shut his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose as he tried to keep from passing out.

“There,” she said after a moment and Chang looked over to see that she had just finished applying a poultice to the wound and was wrapping it. “If I’m being honest, your Highness, I very much doubt you will ever regain the full use of your hand. The inner workers of it are beyond my ability to mend, and such things do not typically mend themselves well.”

Chang nodded, unable to make himself care.

She pushed up his sleeve to tie the bandages around his wrist and Chang felt her pause for a moment. He watched as she examined the weeping scratches on the skin there.

“If you keep scratching these open,” she said gently, reaching for a clean cloth and more poultice. “You leave yourself vulnerable to infection. Does it itch?” she asked as she carefully cleaned them.

“No,” he said simply, staring at the wall.

He felt rather than saw Seo-bi’s eyes flicker up to his face, but she made no comment as she applied the poultice and finished wrapping the bandages.

“I’m wrapping it like this to remind you not to scratch at them, even if they’re itchy, alright?”

Chang nodded.

“Do you have any other injuries?” she asked as she reached for his right hand, washing the blood off his fingers.

Chang shook his head.

She regarded him for a long moment before kindly she asked. “Are you alright, your Highness?”

The question chipped away at the iron walls he had placed around his feelings regarded the past weeks and his eyes stung. He didn’t meet her gaze, nor did he answer her. Apparently that was answer enough, because she let him go.

He walked out to oversee the mission, useless fingers hanging limply by his side as his right hand clenched into a fist.

********

In keeping with his track record, the crazy plan actually worked. And took out quite a few monsters as well. Chang was pleased and dared hope that perhaps things were looking up.

Ha.

The ride back to Mungyeong Saejae was perhaps one of the most tiring rides Chang had ever completed in his life and for no other reason than the sheer exhaustion permeating his entire being and weighing him down like lead.

Twice he nearly fell asleep on his horse, quite the feat considering the rough terrain and the fast pace, but he managed it. When the city’s wall’s came into view, he breathed a sigh of relief. He doubted he would be able to sleep, but he hoped he would at least be able to _sit down_ for a blasted minute, drink a cup of water—

“Your Highness!”

Barely off his horse and someone already needed him. On autopilot he turned towards the sound of his title and the person who had spoken it. He was met by two harried looking soldiers pressed close together like they were bracing themselves for a hit.

“We have a problem.”

_Of course you do._

He was in no way prepared for the magnitude of the problem they brought.

“What happened?!” their commander, one Lee Gang-yun, demanded as Chang’s eyes roved over the empty room again and again, as if its former occupants would suddenly leap out like this was all a big joke—

“Where were the guards who were on duty?!”

“They were killed. We found their bodies behind the building.”

Panic, true panic welled up in Chang’s chest because _Cho Hak-ju_ was gone, someone had _taken him_ and everything Chang had worked for, _everyone who had died for this_ will have died in vain—

“Who did this?” he whispered before shouting. “Tell me right now!”

He didn’t want to hear the answer.

Who else could it have been but Mu-yeong? Chang had truly been stupid and naive enough to think that if he eliminated Cho Hak-ju, that Mu-yeong would come back to his side. (Had he ever been on his side? Or had Chang’s best and only friend of four years been a mole the entire time?)

He would go after him. He would right his mistake. (He refused to think about what he would do with Mu-yeong when he got to him).

“It has already been four hours since they left,” the commander said, struggling to keep up with Chang as they made their way to the courtyard. “Even though they are burdened, they will have made it very far by now.”

“If Cho Hak-ju is allowed to reach Hanyang, he will return with the might of the Five Armies. We cannot allow our country to implode again, the people cannot take another war so soon.”

“But how will you catch him? There are a hundred roads he could have taken to Hanyang!” the commander pleaded with him as Chang called for his horse and leapt on it. In reality, Chang hadn’t the faintest idea, but he had to do something, he had to try, his father and Lord Ahn will _not_ have died in vain—

“I am a tiger hunter.” Yeong-shin’s familiar voice reached Chang’s ears and he turned towards the sound of it. “There’s no one better at chasing targets. Allow me to join you.”

_And how long will it take for you to betray me as well?_

In that moment Chang never wanted to see another human being again. He wanted to hide away in the mountains and live out the rest of his days in peace with no one but himself to rely on. No one to betray him but himself.

_For what price will you be bought, Yeong-shin ah?_

But if he wished to catch Mu-yeong, he had no other choice, did he? He sure as hell didn’t know how to track a man. So he nodded quickly before spinning his horse and galloping out of the camp, rudely speeding past pedestrians, but he had a traitor to catch. Yeong-shin and two guards followed hot on his heels and they still had some hours in the day, but Chang couldn’t say he held out much hope.

*******

_The clink of a metal blade sliding out of its scabbard. The sickening sound of it gliding through human flesh and bone like nothing. The wet thunk of a head hitting the ground._

_The gurgle of blood in human lungs. The way a dying man’s hands grasped as if trying to hold on to life. The dead, when they died in your arms, were so heavy. The guilt of their deaths, much more so._

A hand on his arm had him jumping out of his skin as he ripped his gaze away from the light of the fire, blinking desperately to clear his vision so he could see in the dark, see who would dare touch him—

A thumb stroked gently back and forth over the skin on the back of his hand in some measure of comfort as his hand. Slowly, his eyes adjusted and he made out the face of Yeong-shin.

_Yes, right._

They had gone on as long as they could before the dark and the cold forced them to make camp fo a few hours. Yeong-shin had taken first watch while the other guards had gone to sleep. Chang couldn’t even fathom sleeping, not with the things that rattled around in his head while he was awake.

The thumb kept up its movements and a part of Chang soaked up the comfort like sand in the desert does water. But he could not forget that once he had accepted Mu-yeong’s comfort, his help, his friendship. And now they were going to….

Do what one does with a traitor, he supposed…

Yeong-shin held his gaze through all of it until eventually he pulled away. It was only then that he noticed the tips of his fingers were wet. He had been scratching at his wrist again.

_Must have been itchy like the physician said. I wasn’t paying attention, I must not have noticed it..._

He righted the bandages around his hand and wrist (he didn’t care to pay too much attention to it. The numb, unmovable fingers of his left hand were still too unnerving) and turned his gaze back to the fire.

*******

As soon as dawn was visible on the horizon, they were off again. Chang had not slept a wink. He purposefully ignored Yeong-shin’s glance as he got on his horse, a bit unsteady.

By the time midday hit, Yeong-shin had narrowed down the others’ path to a single road.

“I’m certain they went this way,” the hunter told him, squatting down near some marks in the road that Chang himself would have paid no mind to, but apparently they told quite the tale. “It’s the only route to Hanyang from this area. They’ve taken a cart, and will be moving slower than they would on horseback. We’ll definitely be able to catch them.”

Chang would have expected to feel happy about that. There was hope yet that they would be able to catch them and put an end to the Cho clan’s reign of tyranny. But instead, Chang only felt sick with despair.

“Why did you do nothing?” he heard the hunter ask quietly. When Chang gave no reply, Yeong-shin pressed him further, voice tinted with anger. “Your Highness, he betrayed you! And you knew it!”

_The sickening sound of metal cutting through flesh. The blood would never wash off. The bodies were so heavy, and there were so many. More and more each day, until there was no one Chang had left in his life, no one who cared for him…_

_If Mu-yeong ever did._

“I wasn’t ready to lose anyone else,” he whispered, strength equally as gone from his voice as his body and soul. “That’s why…”

_I couldn’t bear it._

_There’s so much pain, Yeong-shin, I can’t bear any more…._

“I wanted to trust him…” his voice cracked on the last work and Chang fled the moment of vulnerability before it could weaken him further. He had no one to protect him now, no one but himself. Ever had it been so, and ever would it be so.

He was just going to have to fucking live with that.

*******

It was early evening when they came upon the abandoned hut. Even as they approached it from far away with cautious steps, they could still smell the death. Inside the walls were flecked with the evidence of arrows that had been shot through only to disappear and the bodies of men killed in close combat.

Chang had seen such skill before.

_“It’s five against two, if you can even count the royal in a fighting capacity.”_

_“I like those odds.”_

There was a blood trail out the door. Yeong-shin, who had led them in, followed it and Chang went with him, anxiety prickling his skin with a sense of urgency.

Yeong-shin kept his eyes on the blood trail, but Chang looked out through the trees. While he wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for…

He knew it when he saw it.

A figure, just over there, kneeling on the ground. Even in the dim light, Chang could see the bright red blood in the snow leading to him. Chang would have recognized him anywhere.

“MU-YEONG!”

And Chang was running towards him, shoulders crashing into trees and feet tripping over fallen branches. He felt pain flare through his body a number of times as he fell to the ground in his desperate scramble for his friend, but he never took his eyes off them man.

“MU-YEONG!” he very nearly howled, finally reaching him. As he did, he could only stare, take in the man’s astonished, pale face and the…four…arrows protruding from his back…

Carefully, gently, he pulled his friend off the tree he was slumped against to lean on him, cradling him to his chest.

“Your Highness…” Mu-yeong whispered weakly, sagging into Chang’s embrace. “Your Highness…” he said again, like he couldn’t believe Chang was really here.

Chang felt something in him creak, like a warning, before he broke down, floodgates opening like a dam burst. And he _screamed_ for help at the top of his lungs, the words shredding his throat as he _begged_ someone, anyone to help.

_Please, someone…Yeong-shin, you must know something, please help him, please…._

Even Chang knew he was beyond help.

“I’m so sorry, your Highness…” he whispered as Chang sobbed, grief overpowering him. “Naesonjae…” he spoke quickly, weakly, trying to get the words out before... “There are many pregnant women there. The Queen and her court are plotting something. The physician knows everything...Naesonjae…My wife is there…my family is there…”

Chang heard his unspoken plea. _Save them, please…_ And Chang wanted to say _no, you will save them. You will live and you will save them_ , but he couldn’t bring himself to speak the lie. Because it would be a lie, no matter how much he wanted it to be true.

“I’m so sorry…for all my foolishness, I’m so sorry…” Mu-yeong’s voice was getting so weak, so quiet…

“No no no, don’t leave me, please,” Chang begged, rocking his friend and holding him tight as if that would save him. “I forgive you, I’d forgive you for anything, just please don’t leave me...”

_Don’t take him from me,_ he silently pleaded with anyone who would listen. _He’s all I have left, please! I’ll do anything…_

It was useless.

“I’m so sorry that I couldn’t protect you…until the very end…”

Chang’s breath came in harsh, horrible gasps and he couldn’t get enough air no matter how hard he breathed as he cried tears from the depths of his soul. “I can’t I can’t I can’t , no, I can’t…” he sobbed and there were no words to describe the anguish and the grief he felt when he heard Mu-yeong whisper “Yes you can…” before dying in his arms.

The three most important people in his life: dead by his hands, in his arms, or both in a matter of days.

No human soul could survive such a thing and indeed, part of Chang’s did not.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, sobbing and screaming, pleading and begging, before it all ran dry and he just sat there, entirely used up.

There was nothing left in him but pain, grief, and emptiness. He wondered if there would ever be room for anything else again.

And his mind played over every memory he had with Mu-yeong. Meeting him when he was a brand new guard, caught stealing on his third day to buy himself out of gambling debt. Chang electing to help him, and in return the guard brought him a bookmark hand stitched and embroidered by his wife in gratitude (he hadn’t been lying when he said it was a fine piece of art. He had used it all his important texts until the day he fled Hanyang).

The guard watching out for him through the years. The one and only time Chang got drunk and made an absolute fool out of himself, he could still remember his friend joking “who knew the Crown Prince couldn’t hold his liquor” he had never lived it down—

_Until he had_.

A few tears slid down his cheeks.

Mu-yeong putting up with his shit after Lord Ahn left, he had been so patient. And there had been a few times Chang had needlessly been an asshole for no reason other than he was in pain and wanted to lash out. Mu-yeong had been the only person around him that hadn’t had a glint of annoyance in their eyes whenever they looked at him. Mu-yeong never complained when Chang anxiously asked him to check the perimeter, nor did he comment on Chang’s paranoia when he often refused to drink the tea brought for him or eat the food served at dinner.

_“I’ll bring you some fresh tea, your Highness. Always best to be careful. Besides, why drink old tea when you could drink fresh tea, that’s what my wife always says…”_

Chang cracked a pained smile. All the stories he had heard about Mu-yeong’s wife. Mu-yeong must have told him the story about how he met her at least ten times. Chang could describe every detail of their wedding if asked for how many times Mu-yeong had reminisced. Always, when they would travel, when times weren’t quite so bad and a guard’s salary was enough to live on, he would look for something to bring back to her. (Chang had always wanted to have someone to love like that.)

Chang was the first person he told when his wife finally got pregnant.

_“Can you believe it?! I’m going to be a father, your Highness!”_ They had drunk a cup of Soju together that night in celebration. Chang could remember thinking how good a father Mu-yeong would make for how patient and observant he was.

All of that was why he didn’t fire Mu-yeong on the spot when he caught him stealing again. Why he waited for Mu-yeong to come to him and ask for help. Why all he asked for in repayment for the things he had stolen (like Chang had given a damn, really, it was only the sneaking around that bothered him) was a promise of his loyalty.

Mu-yeong had been so confused, had answered so sincerely. _“The only reason I stand here before you today is because of the mercy and generosity you showed me four years ago. My wife is alive today to be morning sick because of your kindness. Ever since that day you have had my loyalty through thick and thin, and so long as there is breath in my body I will be loyal to you.”_

If he had any more tears left in him, the grief he felt then would have overwhelmed him again. Indeed, the pain in his chest was so strong he wondered if his heart had finally failed him and he would die here right alongside his friend.

But he didn’t.

“Your Highness?”

Chang barely registered the voice and didn’t respond to it.

“We have to keep moving. Your Highness told us that Cho Hak-ju must be destroyed and we still believe in that cause—”

The _cause_.He nearly spat at the very thought, fingers tightening in the fabric of Mu-yeong’s tunic. The _cause_ was nothing more than his own version of Cho Hak-ju’s hunt for power. What had he expected to happen? How had he ever expected to win against them? What was there left to win…

It all seemed so petty, so hopeless, in the face of so much death and despair and he couldn’t bring himself to care about his throne, about his father’s wish to see him as King, what a _horrid_ King he would make…

And he said as much.

“Your Highness?”

“I don’t…care,” he repeated, voice firmer this time as grief and pain melted into rage and hopelessness. “They want it all so badly, they can _fucking_ take it! The throne, Hanyang, Joseon, just take it, I can’t…I don’t care anymore…”

He heard the guard spluttering, stunned and without a clue of what more to say before he heard footsteps walking away.

_So that was it then…_

Not quite. Two people had approached him, hadn’t they.

In his blurred vision he recognized the silhouette of Yeong-shin crouching down carefully in front of him.

“Your Highness—“ he began, and the kindness and empathy in his voice brought a fresh wave of tears down Chang’s face as Mu-yeong’s body weighed the heaviest of all in his arms.

“They have taken _everything_ from me…” he sobbed, uncaring of decorum or any of that shit that didn’t really mean a damn thing, that only served to constrain, to control…

“I know,” the hunter murmured gently. “But you can’t give up now.”

Chang was not himself in that moment, had indeed lost all sense of what “himself” was outside of pain and terror and grief. A moment prior, an expression of kindness had made him cry. A moment later, and that same kindness and gentle encouragement made him _furious_ and he wanted nothing more than to _hurt_ this person who dared have hope where there was none...

So he said the first thing that came to mind that had half a chance at burning the other man.

“What, now that you’ve fucked me, you think you can tell me what I can and cannot do?”

The barb didn’t make a lick of sense and Chang knew it even as he said it, the need to inflict pain disappearing with the words on his lips and leaving only shame in its place as the image of Yeong-shin’s horrified, disgusted face flickered through his mind’s eye.

_Your hurt him then and you hurt him now, why did you do it?_

His father, Lord Ahn, and now Mu-yeong, all dead because of him…

_You ruin everything you touch._

He heard Yeong-shin sigh heavily where he was still crouched in front of him. “No, of course not.”

“Besides…” Chang muttered dully. “There’s nothing left to give up.”

Yeong-shin shifted closer to him. “There’s everything to give up,” he refuted, an edge to his voice. “Besides, I can’t speak for the King or Mu-yeong, but Lord Ahn at the very least believed in your mission. We all still believe in your mission. You can’t give up now because if you do, a lot of people will have died for nothing. Lord Ahn will have died for nothing.”

“Exactly,” Chang replied bitterly as he shivered, though barely from the cold. “They died. All of them. So many people have died for me…and now there’s no one left…”

“I’m still here,” Yeong-shin said firmly. “I won’t ever leave you or betray you—”

_Your Highness, I swear to be loyal to you no matter the circumstances or what may come. I will stay by your side always…_

“Don’t say that,” Chang said harshly, cutting him off. “You know he promised me that too? He promised me that too, and here we are.”

Chang shifted Mu-yeong’s body in his arms to more easily rest his cheek on the top of his head. “What would you have me do?” he wondered aloud. “Wait until someone buys you off for the right price like they did him? Just to have us end up here all over again?”

_Tell me, Yeong-shin. What would be your price?_

The hunter fixed him with a hard stare as he said, “No, we won’t. Because the difference between me and him is that I have nothing left to lose. Except you.”

_Except you._

Those words froze Chang solid as they went straight to his very core.

_Except you._

He stared at the hunter, entirely unable to process what he just heard as a thousand things went through his mind.

_That cannot be true. It must be a lie. I am not yours to lose, you cannot possibly think…_

_You can’t go there, you’ll die._

_Let me come with you._

_You don’t hate me…_

That cannot…

“You need to stand up now,” Yeong-shin said firmly. “You have to stand up, and we have to go to Hanyang and take the throne back from the Cho clan because if you don’t, no one else will.”

_I cannot…I don’t have the strength…_

“What has happened to you,” the hunter went on. “What has been taken from you, none of that shit is fair. It fucking _sucks_ , all of it. I know because I have sat here in your shoes before when the army used my entire village as bait for the Japanese and everyone I ever knew was slaughtered like cattle!”

Chang flinched as he met Yeong-shin’s gaze, expecting anger or even hatred that Chang would dare be upset over the death of three people when Yeong-shin had lost so many, but he found nothing of the sort.

“I _know_ how hard this is. But you have to stand up and go on because you have an entire nation of people depending on you to keep them safe from the Haewon Cho clan. If you don’t care, _no one else will.”_

Yeong-shin was right. It did not matter how he felt, because the people felt worse. It did not matter who he had lost, because the people had lost more and were depending on him to make sure they lost nothing else.

_Focus on that, focus on that. There will be time for grief later, focus on that..._

He had to stand up now.

“I’ll come back for you,” he said to Mu-yeong as he did. Then, steeling himself and wiping the tears from his face, he made his way back to the horse, Yeong-shin close behind him.

*******

It was regretful, Chang thought numbly, that when he finally had the opportunity to meet Mu-yeong’s famed wife, it was under these circumstances. She seemed so small, curled in on herself where he held her in his arms as they rode for the abandoned Institute.

“They took my baby…they took my baby…”

It was increasingly clear what the plan had been. So many dead women. So many dead children, it turned Chang’s stomach just to think of it. All the dead babies born girls. This woman’s child — _Mu-yeong’s_ child— a son, taken…

They needed to find Seo-bi.

_She knows everything._

Yeong-shin managed to track her down and bring her back the next day. Hours she spent at Mu-yeong’s wife’s side, saving her life.

“I believe her to be out of danger,” Seo-bi said after she reappeared late into the night. “But I worry she cannot handle the shock of her child being taken from her. Your Highness, may I ask how you know her?”

“She is Mu-yeong’s wife…” _Her husband and her child, gone in one fell swoop…_ He shook the sadness away. There were more pressing matters. “Is it true Cho Hak-ju has recovered?”

Seo-bi reached into her bag.

A worm. A blasted _worm_. One that did not look all that different from others common in a garden. Thinner perhaps, but… It was almost eerie how something so small could be cause so much destruction.

“What about how to stop it? Are we any closer to finding a cure?”

“I’m sorry, your Highness, but it will be a while before I can cure those infected… But we do know it does not like heat nor water. It is a start…”

He sighed, handing the thing back to her. “I will stop this…” he murmured. “But to do that, I need you to do something for me. I need you to get close to the Queen and determine if she has recently given birth. Could you easily do that?”

Seo-bi nodded. “Quite easily, your Highness.”

And so the final plan was set in motion.

*******

While Seo-bi wormed (Chang cursed himself for the poor choice of words) her way into the Queen’s palace, there was another order of business to attend to.

“Gangwha Island?” Yeong-shin repeated with a raised eyebrow.

Chang nodded. “Yes, I have a relative who lives there.”

The hunter blinked. “Surely your Highness must be mistaken.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Have you ever _been_ to Gangwha Island?”

Chang shook his head.

“I like it well enough,” Yeong-shin elaborated. “But it is no place for a royal.”

“I assure you,” Chang replied. “He has not been a royal since before I was born.”

It would just be the two of them (something in Chang fluttered at the thought, but it felt so far away that he didn’t pay much attention to it). Chang paced back and forth on the shore where he waited for Yeong-shin to return, hidden in a grove. What was taking him so long?

“Your Highness!”

Chang jumped, turning to find Yeong-shin in a small boat, waving for him to join him.

“I found us a boat!

Chang blinked, eyeing the arrows stuck in the side of it. “What did I say about being discreet? Didn’t I tell you to just rent one?”

Yeong-shin shook his head. “I tried, your Highness. No one would rent a boat to someone like me. None of them believed the money I tried to pay them with was actually mine, and none of them wanted any trouble from the next lord who came looking for me.”

Chang gave him a look.

“Their words, not mine.”

“So you stole this one.”

“I didn’t steal it,” the hunter replied, beaching the boat so Chang could get in. “I simply found it before it was lost.”

Chang shook his head, muttering to himself. 

Yeong-shin smiled at him and offered a hand to help steady him as he got in. Chang regarded the hand for a moment before taking it and the warmth that spread through him at the touch was enough to block out the bitter winter wind.

Successfully in the boat, Yeong-shin let go of his hand to pick the oars back up. Chang could still feel the touch of his fingers on his skin.

How odd.

“Will this little thing even hold us?”

“Only one way to find out.”

Chang stared at him, horrified until he saw the glint of humor in the hunter’s eyes. A small smile crept to his lips. He couldn’t help it.

The trip out to Gangwha was long and remarkably boring. It set Chang’s mind on edge — _screaming blood death so muc_ h— which must have shown on his face because he caught Yeong-shin eyeing him carefully as he rowed before he averted his gaze and…

Started _humming._ And then _singing._

“What are you doing?” Chang asked.

Yeong-shin paused. “It’s an old sailor’s song, your Highness. Does it bother you?”

Chang shook his head and Yeong-shin went right on singing the ridiculously unimaginative song that he got the sense Yeong-shin was omitting parts of and/or changing the lyrics, no doubt because of its original raunchy content (Chang was, again, not nearly as naive as everyone liked to think). It was…nice. If Chang hadn’t felt quite so weighed down and numb, he might even have laughed at parts of it.

But he thought no more on the screaming.

Having reached the island, the hunter insisted on setting himself up in the bushes on a nearby ridge to keep watch. Just in case.

“I will not be in danger from an old man such as him. My relative, no less,” Chang tried to argue with him, but Yeong-shin would not relent.

“All the same, your Highness, I’d rather be prepared,” he said as he checked his rifle, calculating the shot.

Chang cracked a small smile. “Could you even make a shot like that?” he asked, a teasing edge to his voice. (Part of him wondered if he did it right. He had never teased someone before so…lightheartedly. In court, what he did was better called mocking for the purpose of discrediting or humiliating. He did not want to do that to Yeong-shin.)

The hunter glanced up at him. “Yes, your Highness.”

“Really? When you missed the shot you took at Cho Hak-ju fifty feet in front of you?”

The hunter looked fully up at him then, trying very hard to suppress a smile and Chang’s anxiety fled. “I didn’t miss, your Highness. Someone stepped in front of my shot.”

“Ah I see.”

He could have stood there all day bantering with Yeong-shin. But there was no time for any more of that, so he nodded to the man and made his way down the ridge. At the bottom, he glanced back up at the feeling of the hunter’s eyes on him and he wondered, briefly, where he would be without Yeong-shin.

He didn’t care to think too hard on it.

His uncle had been sitting there for a long time, simply watching the waves as he waited for something to tug on his lines. Chang felt himself slowly going stir crazy on the man’s behalf.

“It’s been several hours and you haven’t caught anything,” he remarked, keeping his gaze on the man’s back.

“You tryna to pick a fight?” his uncle drawled in response, not paying him any mind. “All of our food sources have gone dry. I’d be happy for the opportunity to catch anything at all…” He chuckled humorlessly, hunger dampening his voice. Even though his grammar was lax, he still spoke with the strength of a man in court. “People worship food like a god these days, but that just means this kingdom has gone to hell!”

Chang couldn’t help but agree.

Then his uncle was shouting at him that something had taken the bait, to grab the pole but _don’t pull,_ just go nice and slow that’s it, nice and—

_Snap._

Chang stared at the now half a fishing pole in his hands, entirely blindsided as to what had just happened. His uncle raised a hand and Chang flinched away at the angry look in his eyes.

“Why did you…” the man muttered, crushed. “What did I do to deserve this?” he wondered aloud, gathering up his equipment as Chang stared at the pole in his hands glancing up briefly to look up at the ridge from where he knew Yeong-shin watched, embarrassment and guilt coloring his cheeks.

The hunter would no doubt get a kick out of what just happened, but all the same, Chang’s ineptitude had just cost this man a meal. He dropped what was left of the pole.

“You sir,” his uncle growled. “I hope to never see again. Why did you pull?! I told you to hold it…” He sighed and moved to carry on with his day.

“Uncle,” Chang said to the man’s retreating back and the former royal froze.

“What did you call me?”

“I checked my family tree. You are my distant uncle, part of the royal bloodline, banished here by the Cho clan.”

The old man nodded, considering. “What gave me away?”

“‘People have a tendency to worship food like a god? That’s from _The Book of Han._ Not many peasants can read, let alone read that.”

The man scoffed. “The royal bloodline. What do you know, it doesn’t matter who it belongs to. Your Highness, nor I, nor anyone else. We all bleed the same. And we all starve the same as well.”

“It may have lost its meaning for you—“ And increasingly for Chang as well, if he was being honest. “—In this kingdom though, it is our most important asset.” He held his uncle’s gaze. “I need your help.”

The old man sighed heavily.

In the end, he agreed to hear him out, so Chang told him everything. Everything that had happened, everyone who was dead, the plan to overthrow the Cho clan and for him to take the crown.

Out of nowhere, the memory of his sword cutting through flesh and the sound of his father’s head hitting the floor hit him and he jolted just a bit. A painful memory, but its true significance Chang had not yet allowed himself to think on. This plan, he had not shared with anyone.

“Considering all that has happened…” Chang went on as his uncle listened patiently. “We must have a contingency plan.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Chang swallowed hard. “I have committed treason. In the eyes of many I have committed murder. I have an entire list of crimes against me…” He shook his head. “My rule will be fraught, if I manage to make it there at all. I will need your support, as I said, but…In the event I do not make it there, the newborn prince will need you more than anyone to teach him how to be a good King. To make him understand the needs of the people in a way only one who has lived among him can. If I cannot do it, you must help him break the curse of the Cho clan.”

“And how will I do that if Cho Hak-ju still lives?”

“I will remove Cho Hak-ju from the equation,” he promised. “If it is the last thing that I do.”

His uncle nodded slowly. “Chang is your name, isn’t it?”

Chang frowned. “Yes…”

“How old are you?”

The prince’s frown deepened as, confusedly, he answered. “I’m thirty years old.”

His uncle raised an eyebrow, shaking his head slowly.

Chang drew back from him, squirming under his gaze. “What?”

“You look much, much older than that. Younger, too. But I suppose that is about right…” he hummed. “When was the last time you had some sleep?”

_“Chang…”_

_Chang sagged into his mentor’s arms, letting the clean smell of him calm his frayed nerves._

_“When was the last time you had some sleep, my boy?” Lord Ahn asked him, gazing at him like any man would his son._

_Lord Ahn…_

Chang shivered, clamping down hard on the pain that exploded at the memory of his own mentor, refusing to remember the last two times he had seen him.

He did not answer his uncle, simply thanked him for his time and rose to leave. The man stopped him.

“I still have my contacts back in Hanyang,” he said. “Just earlier today, they delivered some troubling news to me.”

Of course they did.

*******

He was not in any way surprised to hear that Cho Hak-ju’s latest plan involved mass murder. It was a long time coming.

His heart ached. Yet more people at risk of dying for him, just so he could take power.

_If you don’t care, no one else will_.

He was tempted to think that it was a necessary sacrifice, but the thought made him sick. Too many people had died for him, far too many…

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, staring out at the waves as Yeong-shin waited patiently behind him.

Waiting for him to say something, to come up with some glorious plan to save them no doubt, when had he ever pulled that off?

_So many people…_

_All those monsters, all of them, dead and turned because I dared exist…_

_How could anyone want me on the throne?_

“Tell me,” Chang finally asked. “Why are you so loyal?”

It took Yeong-shin a beat to reply. “Your Highness?”

_Since when did you call me that? Since when did you look down at the ground rather than at me when we speak?_

Against his will, he thought of Mu-yeong’s silence back in Sangju. How it was that tell, that uncharacteristic behavior, that gave him away.

Chang’s hands shook at the fear he felt then. _So soon_. _So soon after you said you had nothing to lose but me. Tell me, what was your price, Yeong-shin?_

“You mentioned what had happened to your family before. I know that’s why you helped me. So that you could avenge them. You’ve done that. Why are you still here?”

_Or is it just revenge you want? Do you want me dead, too? Next to Lord Ahn and Cho Hak-ju and the others? You would have every right, considering all who have died because of me. All who will die…_

He braced himself for the answer. For the lie. For the next tell. Or for the painful truth. Whichever Yeong-shin deigned to give him.

Yeong-shin took a deep breath.

“Since the deaths of the men responsible for all this suffering…” he started slowly. “Have the people gotten meat or rice? Everything is still the same. The people are still starving and everything is a mess. There is so much still that needs to change...” He trailed off for a moment. “But…I believe in you. I believe you can bring about the changes we need.”

Chang turned around in disbelief and the hunter lifted his head to meet his gaze. Chang could find no lie, no tell in the man’s eye nor in his voice.

_You’re simply seeing what you want to see._

“Am I mistaken?”

_I have nothing to lose except you._

A part of Chang dared, _dared_ …

“Did you mean what you said?” he asked, voice barely audible above the waves, refusing to allow himself to feel hope where there was none, _refusing_. “Back there…”

“Yes,” Yeong-shin answered and without hesitation.

“Why?” Chang barely breathed because truly he couldn’t understand it. This man should want him dead and painfully so. Not…

Not…

The hunter shut his eyes. “Once…” he murmured. “An old colleague of mine gave me a piece of advice…” He broke off, sighing before continuing. “He told me to never to kiss my lovers, lest I…”

He broke off again, as if the words were physically difficult to say.

Chang’s heart pounded in his chest.

_Lovers?_

Yeong-shin finally found the words. “Lest I fall in love with them.”

Chang choked on his own breath.

_Lovers? Love? Love…me?_

He had Yeong-shin in his arms before he even realized he had moved. The only way he could think to respond to such a declaration, however indirect, was to kiss him. Kiss him with all the feeling Chang had no idea how to identify.

Yeong-shin returned it immediately, wrapping his arms around Chang’s back and kissing him so passionately it made Chang’s head spin.

_He was telling the truth._

_Love…love me…_

Chang had quite forgotten what it felt like to be loved by anyone, in any way. And now that he had it, could feel it again…

He couldn’t bear to let it go.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispered against Yeong-shin’s lips, holding his face between his hands as elatedness and bitter fear burned him alive. “Please don’t leave me. You can’t say something like that to me and then turn around and leave me—“

Yeong-shin kissed him firmly, silencing his anxious ramblings. “Never,” he whispered back. “I’ve already sworn it, I’ll never leave you…”

And Chang couldn’t believe his ears.

_That can’t be true. Everyone always leaves me. Any man can be bought by them—_

“Ever?” he asked, giving in to his paranoia.

One of Yeong-shin’s hands stroked his back comfortingly while the other rose to curl around the back of his neck. The hunter looked him in the eye when he said “Ever.”

And Chang…

Chang believed him.

Yeong-shin kissed him again and Chang melted into it, wrapping his arms around the hunter’s neck as he pressed as close to him as he could. There was no real heat in it, not like in the alley back in Sangju. Chang had never felt anything like he felt then for Yeong-shin and as such he had no word for it.

But certainly, as the hunter held him like a long lost treasure and kissed him like he was the most precious thing in the world, Chang felt _loved._

_*******_

None of that did anything to change their situation. None of that negated Chang’s duty to line up the men in front of him later that night after they returned, and tell them that their families would die for their allegiance.

_Yeong-shin may be loyal to me_ , he thought. _But are you?_

To his surprise, the men shouted _yes!_

Their commander clarified the sentiment. “What they have done to our families is only further proof that they must be stopped! To anyone who finds doubt in their hearts, know that if you defect, they will only kill you alongside your families! To stand with the Crown Prince is to save them!”

Chang only hoped they could save them.

He told the men to get some rest. They would storm the city in the morning, and one way or another, it would be over.

_Get some rest_ , he told himself as he paced back and forth in his rooms, anxiety and paranoia making his heart race. _You need to be sharp, get some rest._

He sent the guards away just past midnight. Their subtle shifting was grating on his frayed nerves and they would be walking into battle with him as well. If he wasn’t going to be getting any rest, at least they could.

_At least get undressed,_ he thought, taking off his gat and resting it on the floor. _Lay down. If you won’t sleep, then at least rest your body._

That night, he couldn’t even do that. He tried to sit down, but found himself shaking so badly he had to stand back up. He wasn’t sure why. There was nothing specific that he could pinpoint as worrisome. Just a general sense of unease. Of foreboding.

It was possible they would die tomorrow after all.

A knock on the door had him jumping out of his skin and he whipped around—

Chang sighed, relieved, when he made out the figure of Yeong-shin.

“You startled me,” he said with a half smile.

“I’m sorry,” Yeong-shin murmured.

“It’s all right.” He was, after all, quite happy to see him.

Yeong-shin regarded him for a moment before he spoke again. “I…came to check on you.”

Chang smiled fully then. That first time the hunter had snuck into his rooms seemed like a lifetime ago, but in reality it was little more than a week. “To check on me?”

Yeong-shin nodded, half smiling as well. “Is there something bothering you?”

Chang sighed heavily, looking down at his trembling hands (whatever he did, he couldn’t make them stop shaking). “What isn’t there to bother me?” he wondered aloud. “Come in. Shut the door.”

Yeong-shin did so.

Fires in the hall hidden from view, there was only the light of the moon left to illuminate the room.

“What happened to your guards?” the hunter asked, turning back to face him.

“I sent them to get some sleep…” He paused for a moment. “I…every time they moved I would jump, thinking…” He trailed off. “Anyway, I thought I would take my chances without them, seeing as I wasn’t getting any rest with them.“

Yeong-shin hummed in response. “What can I do?” he asked after while.

_Your body thinks it’s still out there, and there’s no convincing it that it’s not…._

Terrible memories brewed on the edges of Chang’s exhausted mind, just waiting for him to let his guard down for a moment so they could beat him bloody (and he wondered why his hands were shaking).

_But you can make it shut up for a while…_

Perhaps it was a selfish thing to do, to use someone else to silence his own mind. Goad them into hurting him…

And Yeong-shin had, unbeknownst to him and the full extent of which to Chang at the time, hurt him. Indeed it was nothing Chang hadn’t allowed —wanted— him to do at the time, but he had not understood…

There had been blood on his thighs a number of times through the days. Riding a horse had been…unpleasant. He hadn’t much noticed it at the time, to strung out to feel much of anything, even pain, but relatively safe in the Scholarly Institute after days of riding, he had felt it. But he did not blame Yeong-shin for a lick of it. It was his own fault for not telling him it had hurt.

As it were, Chang wanted him to do it again.

There, stressed out of his mind and shaking with the effort of fending off the events of the past days, he craved the feeling of Yeong-shin atop him, holding him down, having him…

He craved the pain that made it all go away.

“You can make it shut up…” he whispered, eyes fixed on his hands and not the head in the corner he knew was not there.

“Your Highness…” Yeong-shin began, but Chang cut him off.

“I don’t care how you do it. If it’s like…” Stupidly, he found himself too embarrassed to speak aloud the words describing what they had done before. “Like last time or some other way, it doesn’t matter to me, I just… It’s just that every time I close my eyes I keep seeing…” _Heads. Blood. So much blood…_ “And then I open them and all I see is monsters in the shadows and blood on my hands and—“

He clamped his mouth shut, stopping the flood of words as panic crept up and threatened to overwhelm him. If he spoke another word, he would not be able to stop and Yeong-shin would _see…_

And he couldn’t have that.

“Forgive me,” he murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose and curling in on himself just a bit. “Forget I said anything, I’m…I’m simply tired and need rest…”

People kept asking him when the last time he had some sleep was. Honestly, he couldn’t remember.

A hand on his arm had him turning to face the hunter. Yeong-shin gave him an understanding look as his thumbed stroked back and forth over the fabric. Leaving the decision up to him, but offering it all the same if he wanted it.

And he did want it.

Chang leaned down to press their lips together without a second thought, not warmth flooding through him this time, but fire. Oh, how he _wanted._

Yeong-shin returned the kiss every bit as passionately, backing him up against the nearest wall as he let Chang lick into his mouth (such a strange thing to find so _enjoyable_ ) and bury his hands in his hair.

The feeling of the hunter’s hands on him was exquisite. Chang couldn’t quite seem to pull his hands from Yeong-shin’s hair, but the hunter had no such reservations, trailing his hands over his chest and down to massage at his ass. A bolt of heat shot through Chang’s core and he moaned into the hunter’s mouth, pulling him closer to grind their hips together.

And while it was true that Chang was coming to _love_ kissing, he wanted (needed) more than that.

“What are you waiting for?” he asked breathlessly as Yeong-shin broke the kiss to press his mouth to his throat. “Have me…” he half begged, widening his legs and pulling Yeong-shin even closer, hoping the hunter would understand what he was asking for.

“No,” Yeong-shin murmured, untying Chang’s robes and pushing them to the side to lick and bite at his collarbone. “Not tonight.”

Chang frowned, but was wholly unable to express his displeasure with Yeong-shin’s mouth on his skin like that. “Then what—“

The hunter kissed him again before he could finish that sentence. Pulling away, he gave Chang a quick smile, eyes glinting in the moonlight, before dropping to his knees.

_Oh._

“Do you understand what I’m about to do?” Yeong-shin asked patiently as Chang leaned heavily against the wall, brain struggling to catch up, but he nodded quickly.“Do you want it?”

Back in the palace, this was the most common act he had overheard guards discussing late at night in remote corners of the palace or grounds, completely unaware the prince was awake and listening, having slipped out of his quarters. Chang had not previously seen the appeal, thinking it quite unhygienic, but with Yeong-shin in front of him now, on his knees, mouth kiss swollen, thumb stroking his hip…

“Yes,” he whispered, voice more than a bit strained. “I—“

Whatever he had been about to say fled his mind as Yeong-shin reached for the ties on his pants and pulled them down just enough to…

_Oh._

Chang clapped a hand over his mouth to silence a sharp moan, burying the other in the hunter’s hair as he moved his mouth over Chang’s length. The feeling was… _indescribable_. And Chang had nothing to compare this to, had no idea what made someone _good_ at something like this, but he couldn’t imagine anyone being better at this than Yeong-shin.

He relaxed his fingers as much as he could in Yeong-shin’s hair, not wanting to hurt him as pleasure short-circuited his entire body. He thought to pull it back entirely, but he had to hold on to _something_ lest he lose himself—

Yeong-shin pulled his mouth off of him with a pop and Chang whimpered at the loss, desire almost overwhelming him (everything about this was almost overwhelming…).

“Sit down before you fall down,” the hunter remarked with a smirk, guiding him to slide down the wall to the floor. From there, Yeong-shin seemed to almost loom in front of him, eyes glinting with lust as he guided Chang’s thighs apart before reaching for the hand not covering Chang’s mouth. Chang watched, wide eyed, as the hunter put it back in his hair. “You can pull it if you want.”

Then his mouth was back on Chang’s cock and Chang thought surely he would die from this.

He hadn’t known anything could feel this good.

The sounds of Yeong-shin’s mouth moving over his cock were unimaginably lewd, yet Chang couldn’t get enough of them. Managing to wrench open his eyes, he was greeted the the sight of Yeong-shin’s free hand between his thighs, massaging his own cock as he sucked Chang off. Pleasure overwhelmed him then and he tugged at Yeong-shin’s hair, barely able to form a coherent thought let alone speak, but still managing to think that it would be unimaginably rude to…

Yeong-shin completely ignored what he hoped was a clear warning (as clear as he could make it) and swallowed him down to the root, nose brushing the hair at the base of his cock. Chang felt his tip brush what must have been _the back of Yeong-shin’s throat_ and then he was coming harder than he thought possible, hand tightening in Yeong-shin’s hair as he curled in on himself, biting his tongue to keep from shouting as his vision whited out.

Coming back to himself, aftershocks still sparking their way through him, he found Yeong-shin still kneeling between his spread thighs, panting heavily as his cock strained against the front of his pants. Despite his recent mind-blowing orgasm, Chang felt heat pulse low in his belly and he reached forward, catching the hunter behind the neck and pulling him forward to kiss him, to offer to do the same, though he likely wouldn’t be as good at it—

Only to have Yeong-shin brace a hand on Chang’s chest, resisting his pull and turning away from him.

“You don’t want to do that after where I’ve just had my mouth,” he drawled, cracking a smile.

Chang kissed him anyway. This time, Yeong-shin let him and Chang quickly understood the hunter’s warning. Yeong-shin laughed at the displeased noise Chang made at the unpleasant taste, but he ignored it, continuing to kiss the hunter. He thought again to return the favor, but was met with a burst of anxiety, fearing his own inexperience in the face of Yeong-shin’s prowess,so he pulled the hunter into his lap and shoved his hand down the front of his pants. This, at least, he had some practice at, if only on himself.

Yeong-shin didn’t seem to mind was was probably even still obvious lack of experience (Chang pushed away another spark of anxiety), letting out a soft sigh as Chang stroked him and pressed his mouth just under the hunter’s jaw, eager to give him the same pleasure Chang enjoyed at the touch. Yeong-shin leaned his head back to give Chang more room, hands curling around Chang’s neck and shoulders as he rocked his hips into Chang’s grasp. A few more firm strokes and he was coming into Chang’s hand with an intolerably lovely sound.

Chang kissed him again as Yeong-shin relaxed into his lap. The hunter returned it, heat gone from the gentle movements as he wrapped his arms around Chang’s shoulders.

_How had he ever lived without this?_

All too soon, the hunter was pulling away from him and cleaning them off with a scrap of cloth, righting their clothes.

More anxiety bubbled up in Chang’s chest as Yeong-shin pressed a quick kiss to his lips, and he almost reached out to grab at him.

_Don’t leave…_

_Stay with me…_

_Please…_

His anxiety was misplaced, as Yeong-shin only slid off his lap and sat next to him on the floor, their upper arms still pressed together.

_I have nothing to lose except you._

_He told me never to kiss my lovers, lest I fall in love with them._

Ultimately, even in the blissful silence of the room, his body relaxed, Chang found everything still to be far to much to comprehend a feeling such as love. Love in any sense of the word, let along in this sense. He had only known Yeong-shin a matter of weeks. Had it been a court lady he overheard telling such a story he would have shaken his head in disbelief at the girl’s foolishness and naivety, but…

_But where would I be, without you?_

He saw himself, on a horse, shaking like a leaf at the betrayal of his best friend, having no idea what to do or how to catch him, but needing to do _something._ And Yeong-shin, offering his help. Yeong-shin’s hand on his arm by the fire out in the middle of nowhere, his eyes shining kindly in the dim light. His eyes shining more firmly mere days later, as Chang nearly lost himself in the grief of losing the only three people he cared about over the course of as many days.

_You have to stand up now._

_I have nothing to lose accept you._

Where would he be, without this man sitting next to him.

Not here, that was for certain.

But he didn’t have the words to describe what he was feeling then. The only thing he could think to say was “Thank you” and hope Yeong-shin understood.

The hunter snorted in reply. “Don’t thank me. I got something out of it, too.”

Chang laughed then, realizing how that must have sounded and how silly that would have been, but he couldn’t find it within himself to be frustrated. “That’s not what I meant,” he clarified, searching for the words to explain what it was he was feeling, what it was exactly that he meant. Finding none, he gave in to one last desire and carefully leaned his head on Yeong-shin’s shoulder.

The hunter sighed, almost heavily (Chang would have wondered why, but his eyes were closing) and he wrapped an arm around Chang’s back, pulling him closer.

It would be the first time Chang slept through the night, and without nightmares, in as long as he could remember.

*******

He awoke to the sun on his face, barely starting to peek over the trees and through the window. He was lying on the ground with his head on a rolled up mat, something thrown over his shoulders. Yeong-shin’s vest, he realized after looking at it. A smile crossed his face of its own bidding. Was that hope warming his chest?

Might have been.

What further warmed him was the fact that not a single man had defected overnight. Maybe, just maybe, they had a chance.

He stared down at the peasant robes in his hands, feeling the coarse material between his fingers as he wondered how people wore this all their lives. How some were forced to, no matter what. He nodded his thanks to Yeong-shin, who had brought them.

“They’re not so bad,” the hunter murmured, seeing Chang’s hesitation, before dipping his head and turning to leave.

For whatever reason, the sight of that was unbearable to Chang. After all, they could very well not live to see the sun set. Or worse, Yeong-shin would not, but Chang would. Or they both would and Chang would be crowned King, but Yeong-shin would decide to leave and Chang would never see him again.

In a flash of anxiety, Chang reached out and caught the hunter by the wrist before he could leave.

_You promised me you would never leave me. Will you keep your promise? What will I have to do to ensure you will stay? I’ll give you any court position you want if we win. Just stay._

_Please…_

There was so much he wanted to say to the man standing front of him. So much also that he could only wish he had the words to say. But his pride prevented him from saying all of it.

“This could go very well…” was what he did manage. “Or it could go very badly today and I just…”

Yeong-shin’s mouth twitched into a kind smile. “I understand,” he said quietly.

Chang smiled back at him.

*******

Chang could not imagine the shock the city guard must have felt upon experiencing a man dressed in peasant’s clothes hand him the Crown Prince’s identification tag. The look on his face was certainly priceless. At that point, Chang had been expecting a fight, but the guard just…ran away. All the guards did.

Huh.

From there, to Chang’s soul deep surprise, everything went according to plan. The guards they found further in the city folded, their planned diversion of the military via Min Chi-rok to Yeoggi Academy actually worked and they were sealed out of the city. Chang _walked_ in, unchallenged.

They made their way as quickly as they could to the execution grounds. Chang could only pray they would make it in time. As they finally reached the muddy square, Chang had been expecting to see a great deal of things, but Cho Beom-pal (former magistrate of Dongnae, now apparently current head of the Royal Commandery and more importantly a _Cho_ ) sitting slumped on the dais, refusing to carry out orders from the Queen was not it.

The former magistrate heard them approach and looked up, eyes widening comically before he practically threw himself at Chang’s feet in the mud.

“Your Highness!” he shouted, seemingly simultaneously terrified and very, very glad to see him.

Chang sighed as he stared down at the man whose ineptitude had cost so many lives at Dongnae. Chang wanted to hate him, but…ineptitude was all it was, wasn’t it? There wasn’t a hint of malice in the man at his feet, a Cho or not. He was a fool, but all he had ever been was a pawn in Cho Hak-ju’s game.

“You made the right choice,” he told the quivering man.

“Your Highness,” Beom-pal whimpered, staring up at him.

“Yes,” Chang said. “Today I will return to my rightful place. Will you join me?”

“The Royal Commandery is at your side!” the man shouted, falling down into a bow. Just a smidge more hope warmed Chang’s chest as they cut the families free.

Now to see if the ministers had pulled through.

They had. They had arrested what remaining Cho-loyal guards there were, and Chang _walked_ into the citadel. All the way to the citadel, without a drop of blood being spilled.

_A peaceful transition?_ he thought. _Perhaps the Queen will be agreeable…_

As much as he despised her, she was little more than half his age and a child still. If she agreed to surrender, he decided, he would allow her to live out her days in the palace as she chose. He wouldn’t bother her.

_It’s almost over…_ he told himself as one of the ministers escorted him and his men to the Main Hall. _It’s almost over…_

Before he could make it there, he was greeted by a number of formerly Cho-loyal ministers on their knees, begging for forgiveness, telling him that _Cho Hak-ju_ had told them to. Chang resisted the urge to roll his eyes, exhaustion pulling at his bones. He regarded them, wholly unimpressed as he felt Yeong-shin’s eyes on his back and the annoyance radiating from the hunter.

_No_ , he thought. _You will not kill them._

_Not yet._

He steeled himself as he made his way to the Main Hall, unsure of what he would find.

Who else was there to find but the Queen?

_She’s just a child_ , he reminded himself, unsure of what to make of the terror lighting his blood on fire with each step he took towards the magnificent building. _She’s just a child. With her father and brother out of the picture, you can reason with her._

_All she’s undoubtedly ever wanted is peace, just like you._

And the Queen was what he found when he entered, dressed in high formal robes and military regalia, holding Mu-yeong’s son in her arms. He clamped down hard on a swell of rage and grief.

“You’re finally here,” she said, tone uninterested as she looked down on the face of the baby. “You’ve been away too long. Come here and pay respect to your mother.”

_Oh hell no._

“You are not my mother.” She had thrown that technicality in his face for far too long.

The girl laughed at him, turning to face him. “You deny your filial duties? I’m disappointed.”

Ancestors, she was _exhausting_ , but he bit his tongue, taking a deep breath to calm himself.

“Give up the throne,” he said firmly. “It does not and will never belong to you.”

“And by doing so do you believe the people will serve you instead? They won’t. You’re a demon. A _criminal_ who _decapitated_ his own father with his _bare_ hands.”

_The feeling of metal slicing through flesh, the wet thunk of a head hitting the floor, there was so much blood—_

Well, not his _bare_ hands.

“This throne belongs to my son,” she went on with a truly evil glint in her eye. “The Heir to the King.”

The ministers asked her then how she could prove this child was the true heir, why there were tens of dead women and infants buried on the grounds of Naesonjae.

“You doubt my child?!” she roared, ignoring their prodding.

_Enough of this._

“I came here not because I care for the throne, nor to oust you for being a member of the clan you were simply born into! This throne has responsibilities you simply have not been able to understand! The people of this land have come to regard food as a god. You and your family have neglected your responsibility to our people.”

She just stared at him and she, too, looked so very, very tired.

_She’s just a child._

_She would have been too young to marry me, let alone my father when she did…_

_She’s just a child…_

“Please,” Chang said. “This does not have to end in violence. I have _never_ wanted to see harm or misfortune come to you. Give up the throne peacefully. Admit that this child is not yours and I will allow you to remain here or go wherever you wish. You will have complete free will to do as you please with your life. I will see your pursuits entirely unhindered. Just surrender peacefully.”

It was all he had to offer her, and she laughed at him.

Chang’s patience lapsed. “For God’s sake,” he shouted, drawing his sword. “For once in your life will you _listen_ to me when I’m trying to help you?”

“So your father wasn’t enough?” she taunted. “You would kill your mother—“ That title again. “—and your newborn brother? I welcome you to. I will not leave, even if you try to drag me!”

_Fucking—_

“Your Highness does not need to dirty his hands with her blood,” one of the ministers said, stepping forward. “Do not concern yourself. I will bring the seal and make her issue a royal edict.”

_And how will you do that?_ Chang wondered, lowering his sword as the men scurried off like mice. _She is stubborn as a mule._

So there they waited. It wasn’t long before the screams stared.

_Familiar screams. Screams denoting the end of a life, and violently so. Screams increasingly mixed with inhuman roars, yowls, snarls…_

Chang stared out in the direction of them, terror making his heart pound as he slowly turned back to the Queen, sitting on the throne with a vindicated smile.

“What did you do…?” Chang barely breathed.

“If the throne cannot be mine,” she said hatefully. “Well then, no one can have it.”

That Chang truly could not understand. This…

This was unthinkable.

“ _Shut the gates!”_

*******

He was… _soaked_ …in blood…

There were so many of them…and there was nowhere to hide, nowhere to run. So they fought. And there was _so much blood._ It was all they could see, smell, taste… And they just kept _coming...._

Until they didn’t. Until Chang shoved his sword through a monster’s throat and silence rained down over the courtyard.

“I-is that it?” a shaken Beom-pal asked, spiting out mouthfuls of blood not his own. “Are they gone?”

Chang didn’t answer, waiting, listening. Dare he think—

No, he didn’t.

Someone burst through a gate on the other side of the courtyard. One of the ministers. Bloody and torn up. He slammed the gate shut behind him, begging them to run as the yowls echoed off the palace walls.

There must have been _hundreds_ of them. The entire palace staff and then some. Every person within the citadel walls…

“There’s too many of them. They’re breaking the gate!” he heard Yeong-shin yell, and then he was being dragged away from the splintering gate by the hunter and they were running to God knows where. Barely, just barely, they made it behind another wall and got the gate shut in time.

They must have stood there for hours, long enough for the sun to sink below the horizon, taking shifts holding the gate while the rest watched and waited, all trying desperately to come up with something, _anything_ …

“Your Highness,” the man, Min Chi-rok, finally said. “We will do everything we can to ensure your escape to safety.”

Chang’s heart clenched hard and he grit his teeth against the pain. “And where does that leave you?” he growled. “I won’t let you die. Not for my sake.” ****

“Your Highness,” the man said. “Someone has to survive the night.”

_And what makes me different than you?_ he wanted to shout. _All of you have families, each one of you has more to lose than me! Why would you save_ me?!

“The people need to know the truth,” Min Chi-rok went on, voice eerily calm and he was right and Chang knew it, but he couldn’t bear it, _this isn’t how this was supposed to go—_

“There is a chance we can get your Highness over the roofs and through the back gate in the garden…”

The garden… the reservoir…

_I’m sorry, your Highness, it will be a while before I can find a cure….but we know it does not like heat nor water. It is a start…_

“The garden…” he whispered, a plan dawning in his mind. “Yeong-shin!”

“Your Highness?” the hunter asked him quizzically, not taking his eyes off the gate.

“Am I correct in remembering the physician’s observation about these monsters and water?”

*******

Disperse the monsters by dripping blood off the roof. Then make a run for the reservoir. The ice should be firm enough to stand on yet thin enough to collapse under the weight of the horde, drowning them.

It might work.

It had to work, or the entire kingdom was lost.

A far away part of him mused that Seo-bi would kill him for reopening the wound on his left hand if they all managed to survive this (and if she did too…) He still couldn’t feel his fingers.

He watched as the blood dripped off the rafters and listened to the monster roaring as they ran for it.

Now all he had to do was keep from falling off the roof and hope that if he did, the fall would kill him.

And it worked. It was working. They were dispersing…

That yowling sounded very close, didn’t it? And it was coming from….

Oh _hell._

Then he was fighting for his life for the millionth time that night. Only this time he was alone. Completely and utterly _alone._ And on the fucking _roof_ to boot. Tripping and slipping and sliding…

By the time he was through with the first wave, he could barely stand. His lungs burned worse than they had running from Dongnae and he ached to his core at the exertion of even lifting an arm. Doing so cost him all of his attention. And would have cost him his life, had the palace maintenance people not been lax about the adhesive on the roofing tiles.

He broke the tiles loose and watched as the monsters tumbled off the roof, thanking whoever was there to listen that he hadn’t gone with them. And Min Chi-rok, who saved him from the one stray monster he had missed.

_And they still had so much more work to do_.

He was exhausted beyond feeling as they ran through the forest, body running on adrenaline alone. One false move and Chang would go down, and he doubted he would be able to get back up. But now was not the time to think of that. No, now was the time to think of the reservoir.

_In Dongnae, in Sangju, we failed to stop the plague. That will not happen again. It ends here, no matter what it takes._

As they skidded out onto the ice, shooting fiery arrows into the little gazebo on the island in the middle, Chang accepted this was going to cost him his life.

As worthy a cause as any to die for.

The monsters howled in the distance and the ice shook beneath them, and Chang found himself turning, eyes searching desperately for…

Yeong-shin.

Chang smiled when he found him, standing just off to his left.

_I am so glad I got the chance to know you._

The hunter smiled back at him.

_Out of everything horrible…there was one good thing. There was you, wasn’t there?_

_Please_ , Chang found himself praying as monsters came into view. _Let him live. If no one else, let him live…_

And they waited, guns at the ready, pointed into the ice, until the monsters were almost _almost_ upon them—

The guns went off with a deafening bang, barely managing to crack the ice.

_No. No!_

And so they fought as hard as they could to give the men with guns more time. And they died, there on the ice, torn apart by the never-ending stream of monsters.

_Exhaustion beyond feeling, beyond hope, beyond fear…_

_Keep going, keep going…_

_The survival of the kingdom depends on it._

To this day, he could remember what the nails had sounded like being pounded into his mother’s coffin all those years ago. The sound of finality in them. Of mortality.

That was the sound that went off in Chang’s ears when the monster’s teeth sank into his shoulder.

_So that’s it then,_ he thought almost passively as he slit the monster’s throat, seeing the bleeding, stinking mark on his skin. _It’s over…._

He could only watch as his men died around him, as a group of monsters pinned Yeong-shin to the ground and tore into his back.

_No…_

The despair he felt then…

_It’s truly over…_

Something welled up in him then. Something bitter, something strong. Sheer _spite_.

_It is over. For me._ _For us._ _But not for the kingdom._

Somewhere, somehow, he found the strength. He got to his feet and he shot at the ice until he ran out of bullets. And he beat it with the butt of the rifle until the wood shattered.

And there was Yeong-shin, blood oozing out of the wounds on his back, standing between Chang and the monsters, fighting like the tigers he used to hunt, feral and vicious.

Giving him time. Just a little more time to save the kingdom. 

All Chang had left to fight with were his fists, so he used them.

He had heard and felt the bones in his only good hand splintering and shattering as he punched the ice with all his might (he couldn’t clench the fingers of his left into a fist), but there was no pain. It was as if it was happening to someone else entirely.

He was so close to breaking the ice when the bones of his hand snapped clean through and he could fight no more with it. _So fucking close—_

There. That one, that monster. The fat one. Yes, you. He held out his bloody hands.

_Come get me._

It charged him, and he tackled its legs out from under it as it did, barely even feeling it as the momentum flipped him over and had him crashing down hard onto his spine, but it didn’t matter, because with a booming crash, the ice shattered.

_It’s over..._ Chang thought as the monsters sank and he sank with them. _We did it…_

_It’s over…_

*******

He hadn’t been expecting to wake up, especially not under water. But he did. And when he broke the surface, the others did too. Beom-pal and Min Chi-rok and…

Yeong-shin?

The hunter broke the surface a second later, bewildered and still geared up for a fight.

“How did we survive that?” Beom-pal panted. “We all got bitten by them!”

“I don’t know,” Chang barely got out, his teeth were chattering so hard. “But we’re alive.”

He began to pull himself out, as did the others. Yeong-shin got out first, hauling a struggling Beom-pal out behind him. Min Chi-rok pulled himself out as well, immediately collapsing on the ice as he hacked water out of his lungs. Chang tried to follow them, truly he did, but he only got part way out when suddenly, his limbs gave way. It was as if they were made of lead and he had no control over them. No more strength left. All used up.

A bolt of fear shot through him as he set his eyes on Yeong-shin and tried to call out, _help me!_ But his lungs wouldn’t work, nor would his voice. He was losing his grip, he was slipping back in…

Right before he lost his hold, the hunter turned towards him.

And everything went black as he slipped beneath the surface, as ice cold water filled his lungs.

_*******_

When Chang awoke again in a blind panic, sitting up (much to his back’s chagrin), it was daylight and he was naked as the day he was born.

“Hey! It’s okay, it’s okay.”

Chang whipped around at the feeling of a hand on his arm, only to come face to face with Yeong-shin, nearly as naked as he was but for the blanket around his waist.

“It’s okay,” the hunter said again, wrapping another blanket back around his shoulders.

Still panicking just a little, he looked around quickly. They were in the palace courtyard and men in various stages of undress were strewn about the yard, most clustering around still smoldering piles of ash. Chang clutched the blanket tighter around him, coughing hard as his lungs burned.

“What do you remember?” Yeong-shin asked carefully.

Chang blinked and thought back.

The pond. The monsters. Being bitten (the stinging wound on his shoulder made itself known quite clearly)—

He went to pull the blanket tighter around him and nearly shouted with pain.

“Careful,” Yeong-shin said, grasping his right wrist gently.

_Right, the ice._

Breaking it with his fists. Breaking his hand with it. He stared down with a fair amount of misery at the purpled, swollen flesh. He couldn’t move it at all.

“We’ll find Seo-bi,” Yeong-shin said, seeing his moderate distress. “She’ll fix it.”

Chang nodded aimlessly. “Yeong-shin?”

“Hmm?”

“Why are we all naked?”

The hunter snorted out a laugh. “Because we all took a dip in the reservoir. If we’d have left our clothes on, we’d have frozen to death even with these fires.”

Chang remembered then, partially. Losing his grip on the ice. Sinking. Drowning. Then…not.

Chang stared at Yeong-shin.

The hunter raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“You saved me.”

Yeong-shin blinked and cocked his head, like he didn’t understand. “Of course I did.”

“You could have died.”

The hunter shook his head. “I meant what I said.”

_I have nothing to lose except you._

Carefully, he squeezed Chang’s wrist before letting go and standing up. “I’ll grab you your clothes. They should be dry by now.”

*******

The rest of the morning was spent taking stock of the damages, which were extensive. Never mind structural damages. The sheer loss of life…

Out of everyone who had lived and worked at the palace, the ministers, the staff, the people who had come here with Chang…

Only 50 had survived.

Chang shook his foggy head to clear it. There was so much work to be done. Identifying the dead, cleaning up this place, cleaning up the country, reestablishing some system of government out of the wreckage here, mobilizing the military to combat the infection, getting aid to the people in the outlying lands…

Chang coughed, the sound rattling in his lungs, and he wondered briefly if he had drowned in the lake last night because he truly felt like death. But there was work to be done. And he felt absolutely useless at it. Even if he had wanted to, he couldn’t help with anything because of his ruined hands. He couldn’t even move them, let alone do anything with them…

Chang shook himself again, staring at the elder in front of him.

“Did everyone die except your Highness and your guard? Including the Queen?” the man asked again.

_Is that not obvious?_

“Yes,” he sighed.

That’s when Min entered, bowing deeply. “We have not been able to locate the prince’s corpse.”

_Mu-yeong’s son,_ Chang’s mind translated.

“We must find him,” the elder muttered. “If that child is alive, Cho-loyal ministers and gentry are sure to revolt in the future. For your Highness’s survival, that child must be put to death by your hand.”

Not even the frozen waters of the reservoir had made Chang so cold.

He wished he had drowned it.

*******

He didn’t remember walking to the Hall of Kings. As paced down past his ancestors slowly, murmuring their stories because he knew who sat at the end. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do when he got there. He wasn’t sure if he would even be able to grip the sword to do it.

Was that an excuse? Could that be an excuse?

As he spoke, his mind ran through every possible alternative. Find a child who died and returned the boy to his mother, but the dead child’s parents would have to be bought, but the Haewon Cho clan could turn anyone so they would have to be killed. Say he did it but people would wonder. Actually do it…

There were no choices, were there?

_I have to…for the good of the kingdom, I have to…_

Seo-bi knelt in front of him, Mu-yeong’s son in her arms, and Chang wondered if there would ever be forgiveness for this.

“Show me the child.”

Seo-bi did. He had been bitten on the arm, but cured, she said by placing him in water. It was how she had cured Cho Hak-ju before he was murdered by the Queen (a fitting end). And likely how they had survived their bites as well.

Chang’s heart still pounded in his chest as he pressed the hilt of his sword between his two ruined hands to hold it, albeit shakily.

Seo-bi begged him not to kill the child as two equal sides of his mind warred so strongly he feared he would crumble under the weight of it.

_Kill the child and take power. The kingdom will be better for it._

_Do you truly believe there is a justification for this?_

“I know you don’t want to end his life…” Seo-bi pleaded.

_Do it!_

_Don’t do this! You will never forgive yourself._

“You asked me to protect him. I have done that for you.”

_You did. You did ask her to do that. This is Mu-yeong’s child. Your best friend’s child. Do not do this._

_You must do this or the kingdom will fall right back in the hands of the Cho clan and all who have sacrificed themselves for you will have died in vain! What is the blood of one child against the blood of hundreds if not thousands! How many other children were among them?_

_That girl at Jiyulheon…an arrow in her back…_

“Your Highness said that no one else should get hurt, remember?”

_But so many did. And so many will, but that can be prevented with just one more death._

_If you do this you will not survive it._

If Chang did not need both hands to hold his sword, he would have pressed on his eyes in an attempt to relieve the growing pressure behind them.

_I don’t know_ , he wanted to scream. _I don’t know!_

“Please, spare this child’s life! This plague will come to an end and all of this will be a bad memory!”

_Bad memories, he had so many, he thought he would drown in them. Like he should have the night before._

_Yeong-shin, why did you save me, you did me no favors…_

“Winter will become spring and this nightmare will be over.”

He was trembling and his breath came in terrible, rattling gasps that burned.

“No…” he whispered, his soul dying as he said it. “As long as this child lives, this nightmare will never end.”

She screamed as he raised his sword, clutching the boy to her chest.

_Just bring your arms down, and this it will be done. It will be over._

He did, he almost did, when a small voice in the back of his head whispered, _you are just like them._

And he froze.

_Killing the innocent to secure your own grasp on power? What does it matter if this boy becomes King under the control of the Cho clan? You will be no different from them if you do this. You will be worse. So much worse. You have killed so many more people than they ever did._

_You are worse._

The sword clattered out of his hands.

“Tell me right now, can I trust you? Are you sure this child is not sick with the disease?”

“I’m sure of it, your Highness!”

Chang made up his mind as the elders poured in.

*******

As he walked out, the stunned gazes of many following him, he could not identify what it was he was feeling. All he knew was that he was shaking, that his face was wet with tears, and around the burning in his lungs he felt…light? Heavy? Relieved that it was over? Devastated that thirty years of suffering and so much death on his behalf had meant absolutely nothing?

If he didn’t sit down soon, he was going to pass out cold.

Suddenly he felt himself being grabbed roughly, spun around and _shoved_ into a half broken down door. There he was met with the furious face of Yeong-shin.

“You don’t get to do that,” he snarled. “You don’t get to just fucking walk away, to go off and kill yourself after…after everything.”

Chang blinked. _Kill myself? I never said that. Whatever I might have thought, I never said that._ “Yeong-shin—“

“Why don’t you just say the child died? Hmm? Go out a find a dead baby and present that as the kid, return this boy to his mother where he belongs and rule!”

_Thought of that. Too many loose ends._ “Yeong—“

Chang had never seen someone so angry and…so _afraid_.

As Chang had spoken his decree back there, half certain he had chosen correctly, half unable to believe he was doing it, he recalled only seeing Yeong-shin’s face. Devastated, furious even. When he had walked out, all had bowed to him in thanks for the gift of peace he had given the kingdom. All except for Yeong-shin, who had stood with his spine straight, anger and hatred burning in his eyes.

He must have misunderstood, Chang realized. When I asked who deserved to die, when I said the history books would read that I died, he must have thought…

Yeong-shin’s breath came hard and fast as he nearly screamed at Chang. “I won’t let you die! I did not almost fucking drown last night just for you to go and commit suicide today! You did not survive all that shit just to die today! I won’t let you do it, if you want to kill yourself you’ll have to get through me and you’re not good enough to do that—“

“Yeong-shin ah,” he said softly, fondness overwhelming him as he smiled down at the man in front of him.

Yeong-shin’s tirade halted immediately and the hunter stared up at him, his body shaking under Chang’s hands.

“I never said anything about killing myself,” Chang said softly. “I said only that history would read that I died, but I myself have no intention of dying today. I may have just abdicated the throne…” His voice cracked. “But there is still good to be done… There are still things that need to change and those things are still my responsibility. You’re absolutely correct, I would have no right to abandon them now. This all started in an attempt to dethrone me, I have to go at least try and fix it...”

Yeong-shin’s eyes filled with tears as he stared up at him, and Changsuddenly could not bear the thought of ever being parted from him, of going a day without seeing him.

_I have nothing left to lose except you_ , the hunter had said.

_And now I have nothing left except you,_ Chang thought.

“Will you come with me?”

Yeong-shin broke down, sobbing out “Always” as he buried himself in Chang’s chest. “Always.”

Chang was crying too as he shushed him gently, a wide grin on his face despite the tears.

He had no idea what this meant. For him, for them, for the kingdom, but it was a start.

He buried his face in the hunter’s hair. He smelled like blood and pond water. Despite every terrible thing that had happened, it had been a long time since Chang had felt this happy.

It was a start.

**El Fin**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we come to the end of this section of the journey. I'm beyond grateful for all of your support! This fic and this fandom have kept me sane through the great quarantine of 2020. Thank you all so much! I hope to see you in part two of this series, which will be the fleshing out of the seven year gap. Much love <333333
> 
> -Bucky

**Author's Note:**

> Bucky, stop using song lyrics and quotes from other movies as dialogue! Kudos if you caught them all.
> 
> This turned into much more of a character study than I anticipated. I really wanted to explore how the stress and trauma of growing up under threat of death affected Chang, and I also found it interesting that from very early on in the show it is known that the King is dead, so Chang is the king, but it is literally never addressed by anyone who knows and I wanted to explore that. As always, I am horribly and unapologetically self-indulgent. I wanted a sex scene damn it so I wrote one! 
> 
> As you have seen here and will continue to see in upcoming chapters, I am a huge fan of morally ambiguous characters and wrong decisions made for the right reasons because I like to put a touch of real life in my pics and more often than not, real life is morally grey. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!!! Let me know what you think. Chapter 2 is done will be up within the next couple days.


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